


What Happens After

by devilsstaircase



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Multi, Punisher - Freeform, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 74
Words: 86,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsstaircase/pseuds/devilsstaircase
Summary: Takes place one month after the events depicted in Season 1 of The Punisher. Frank has fallen into a comfortable routine and Karen has been drowning herself in work. Billy lays broken on a hospital bed... but not for long...-Completed Work-





	1. The Patient

On the tenth floor of a large university hospital in the Upper East Side neighborhood of Manhattan, a heavily bandaged man lay defeated on a hospital bed. Bandages covered his entire head, making him look like a mummy. Blood had already seeped through some of the bandages, which had only been changed an hour ago, leaving pinkish red patches. His hands and feet were both handcuffed to the bed. An IV line on his left arm pumped a large dose of pain medicine every hour on the hour. The relief only lasted a moment. Then it was another agonizing wait until the next dose.

A heavily armed NYPD officer guarded his room at all hours of the day. The current officer on duty sat in a chair near the door staring at the television with a glazed look on his face. Every now and then the officer would get up and stand just outside Billy’s room and interact with the hospital staff to stave off the boredom. The police officers would change shifts every 8 hours but Billy hardly noticed them.

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Billy Russo glanced at the clock. There were still 57 and a half minutes to go until the next dose. His face was on fire. It felt like a hundred bees were stinging his face all at the same time. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his whole body tensed, only causing the pain in the rest of his body to flare up.

They had found 176 tiny pieces of glass on the right side of his face. It had taken New York’s best surgeons 11 hours to remove all of them. He had overheard nurses describing his face as looking like it had gone through a meat grinder.

The rest of his body hadn’t fared well either. His right arm was broken, he had several broken ribs, and bumps, cuts, and bruises all over his body. It hurt just to breathe.

To the amazement of the hospital staff, he had only lain in a coma for two weeks before regaining consciousness. “It’s a miracle,” they had said, “highly unusual!”

For Billy being in a coma had been like being in heaven...at first. His coma had been all dreams. In them Frank had agreed to meet him by the docks, like Billy had originally planned for him, to “start a life somewhere new”. He and Rawlins had then killed him and gone on their merry ways. Billy going back to overseeing his company ANVIL, making loads of money, and wearing the finest of threads. Rawlins going back to work at the CIA. It had all been perfect.

But his dream had slowly turned into a nightmare. A dark shape had begun stalking him, disappearing around corners every time he tried to get a good look at who or what it was. Billy had known deep inside that it was Frank, even though he and Rawlins had killed him. Billy had tried to escape, running off any time the dark shape appeared, but that had only made the shape appear more often. Eventually, it had been behind him all the time. Slowly walking towards him. When Billy ran, the shape ran, and eventually it had caught up to him. It had grabbed Billy and had smashed Billy’s face into a mirror. Slowly, agonizingly, slicing Billy’s face over and over again.

Billy had woken up screaming and straining at his handcuffs. Three nurses had had to hold him down as a fourth had injected him with something that had almost immediately put him back to sleep. When he next woke he knew.

_Frank Castle was still alive._

Despite the constant pain, his wounds were slowly beginning to heal. He would still need to wear bandages for a few more weeks and he would need months of extensive therapy to get back on his feet but Billy was determined. Frank Castle had taken everything from him. Billy wasn’t going to just lay back and take it. Oh no, he was going to fight tooth and nail to get his revenge. In fact, he had already begun to formulate a plan. Yes. He would just wait for his assistant Jeremy to come visit him, which he would, and then they could begin.

Billy stopped himself from smiling. The pain was too much. He clenched his fist instead. _Soon, Frank. Just you wait._


	2. Pete Castiglione

Frank Castle pulled the hood of his black sweatshirt down low over his ears as he made his way towards Brooklyn Bridge. It was late evening and, as usual, the streets were filled with pedestrians. He walked by office workers who after a long day of work were finally heading home. Some trudging towards the subway to join the rest of the commuters, others hailing taxis.He walked by groups of young professionals who were headed to the bars for happy hour or to the closest hole in the wall for a bite to eat. Several people were out walking their dogs but Frank resisted the urge to stop and interact with them. Most people were intimidated by him anyway, especially at night. Some people even crossed the street when they saw him approaching. He glanced at his watch, confirming that he was running a little late. He narrowly dodged a large group of tourists who had come to a stop directly in front of him to take a selfie. Normally this would annoy him slightly, but tonight he didn’t mind. Tonight he was feeling pretty good. 

He ducked into a quiet alley, leaving the commotion of the main street behind him. His combat boots echoed in the sudden stillness. His shadow danced along behind him growing larger as he walked. A rat spotted him and scurried behind a dumpster. Brooklyn Bridge was another few blocks away but Frank needed to make a pit stop first.

He had started attending his friend Curtis Hoyle’s PTSD support group for war veterans three weeks earlier, shortly after he had put his former friend and ex-marine Billy Russo in the hospital. The group met on Mondays and Thursdays and Frank dutifully attended both meetings every week hoping they would help him somehow.

He had fallen into a strict routine in the last month. The routine helped keep the anger deep inside of him at bay. His days started very early, before dawn, a remnant of his days in the military. He would go out for a long run around his neighborhood in Manhattan, usually running in the worst and most crime ridden areas. Mostly because he lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, but also because a small part of him was keeping an eye out for any signs of crime. There had been an apparent lull in crime activity since he had started however. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary so far. After his run he would pick up a copy of the New York Bulletin and head to his favorite diner for eggs and coffee. He would skim the paper, looking for articles written by a particular reporter, and read them fully when he found them. 

The diner staff knew him by name: Pete Castiglione. Nowadays, that was who he was... or at least who he was trying to be. “Frank Castle” was a name of the past. A past he was trying very hard to forget. 

After breakfast he would take long walks. Usually shutting his mind off while walking, and usually ending up all the way in Queens. When he’d find himself walking along old familiar streets he’d turn around and head back to Manhattan. There were some things he was still unable to face.

Back in the city he would make his way to Little Italy for a large plate of pasta. He always went to the same place and always ordered the same thing: beef and mushroom carbonara with a side of garlic bread. To him there was nothing better. He always sat by himself with a book in his hand. This week he was reading Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. He had already read it before but it had been a while and he needed the refresher. He had promised Micro’s daughter Leo that they’d both read it and talk about it at Sunday brunch.

In the beginning the waiters would give him curious looks and whisper about him amongst themselves wondering about the strange large man who always came by himself. But like the staff at the diner they came to know him as Pete and left him alone. 

On the days that the PTSD group did not meet, Frank would hit the gym and workout for a couple of hours. On meeting days he would skip the gym and make his way South. The meetings were held in a community center in Chinatown, close to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Frank emerged from the alleyway onto a quiet residential street. The buildings here were older and there were fewer people out. Black bags filled with garbage lined the sidewalks and the smell wafted through the air. He made a right and slowed his steps, keeping his eyes across the street. When he found the building he was looking for he stepped to the side and came to a stop. The building was eight stories tall and made of red brick. There were lights on in some of the windows. His eyes travelled up to the third floor, second window from the left. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. The window was shut tightly. It appeared that no one was home. 

Frank places his hands in the pockets of his black coat and resumed walking. Every day it had been the same. The place was always dark. The window sill always empty. _No news was good news, right?_


	3. An Invitation

It was another late night at the office. Karen sat at her desk in front of her computer, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to type, but the words wouldn’t come. Karen sighed in frustration, folding her arms on the table and letting her head rest on them.

Papers were strewn all over the room. Towers of boxes were scattered in front of her desk, piled so high they obscured her from view. They reminded Karen of the pillow forts she used to make with her brother when they were kids… when he was alive. 

Karen pushed her chair away from the desk and turned to face the window. The blinds were shut. The only light emanated from her computer monitor. The sun had gone down hours ago but Karen had been too focused to get up and switch on the lights. She preferred the feel of a dark cave these days anyway.

Ellison had stopped by and had tried to demand her to go home but she had waved him off. That had been a few hours ago. Ellison had left reluctantly, but not before ordering chinese takeout for her. The food sat at the edge of her desk untouched. She hadn’t had much of an appetite these days either.

Karen sat up and clicked on a tab in her browser. It displayed the webpage of a company called ANVIL. She scrolled down to the staff biographies, of one in particular, the CEO William Russo.

The Department of Homeland Security and the CIA had agreed not to prosecute Frank Castle in exchange for exposing William Rawlins’s military and drug crimes. This Karen had learned from agent Dinah Madani… off the record, of course. She had also learned about what Frank had done to Billy Russo.

“What about Frank?” Karen had asked.

“We wiped his criminal record and gave him a new identity in exchange for helping us expose Operation Cerberus.” Madani had answered. They had met each other in Central Park to avoid being overheard. 

“Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you know? Aren’t you two friends… or something?” Madani had asked, raising an eyebrow.

Karen had almost laughed then. It seemed like everyone Karen cared about would come and go as they pleased. Now Matt was gone for good and Frank… well, who knew? Only Foggy cared enough to call her up to talk or to take her out. For that she was endlessly grateful. She didn’t know what she would do without him.

She felt a small pang of guilt at the thought of Foggy. He was such a good friend. She hadn’t told him she had seen Frank and had helped him find Micro. Foggy knew about her being held hostage by Lewis because it had been all over the news, but she had not told him she had helped Frank escape. She knew Foggy wouldn’t understand. “Why do you care about Frank Castle?” he would ask. She didn’t really know how to answer that. How to make him see what she sees. 

Ellison had assigned her to the Operation Cerberus story. She had been grateful for this too. What better way to forget everything than by working nonstop and really hard? By exposing criminals and letting the justice system handle them? She had already written the main article about the crimes and was now in charge of keeping the public updated with new information. The tricky part was keeping information not meant for the public out of the story. Of course she would never expose Frank Castle’s role in everything that had happened, even if she was allowed to. A part of her still felt like she owed it to the public to publish the truth though. The whole truth. 

She stared at Billy Russo’s professional headshot next to his biographical blurb. He had been a looker, that was for sure. She imagined what having your face scraped against glass would look like. She shuddered and switched the monitor off.

Billy’s trial was postponed until he had recovered sufficiently from his injuries. According to one of the surgeons who worked on him, Billy had regained full consciousness.

“We were all very surprised when he woke up,” chief surgeon Dr. Goyal had said shaking his head, “Just between you and me, I think maybe it would have been better for him if he had never woken up at all. His injuries are that severe.”

Karen glanced at the clock overhead and saw it was nearly 9:30. The last staff member had gone home hours ago. Even the janitor had already come and gone. It was time to head home if she wanted to get any sleep.

She grabbed her purse, heavy with the weight of her pistol, and the bag of chinese takeout deciding she would microwave it when she got home. She shrugged her black wool coat on and locked the offices behind her. She had walked to work, just as she had every day since she had started working at the paper, but for some reason tonight she was feeling a little skittish. She patted her purse, reassuring herself that her gun was still there and began the mile long walk home. 

The streets were strangely quiet for a Thursday night. Karen pulled her coat tighter around her and jammed her freezing hands in her coat pockets cursing herself for forgetting her gloves at home. The sound of a glass bottle smashing and laughter behind her nearly caused her to jump straight out of her skin. She glanced behind her and saw a group of three teenagers emerge from an alley talking and laughing amongst themselves. Without realizing it, Karen’s hand was in her purse and touching her gun. She shook her head and let out a little laugh. _Just a couple of kids_. She sighed and put her hands back in her pockets.

She turned onto a new street, this one much busier than the last, and felt comforted by the other anonymous people who were walking around. Her phone buzzed against her hand inside of her pocket. It was a text message from Foggy.

“I’m at Josie’s with Marci and a few others but they’re leaving soon. You wanna join me for a drink?”

Karen smiled. She hadn’t been to Josie’s in a really long time. This wasn’t the first time Foggy had asked her to come out. He asked her every week and every week she had declined stating she had a headache or needed some sleep.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Please? I’d really like to see you.”

Karen stopped in her tracks and considered it for a moment. What she really wanted to do was go home, eat her chinese food, and then fall asleep in her work clothes on the couch. Her eyes watered and she felt a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought. 

She typed out the words “Yes, I’ll see you there!” and pressed SEND before she could stop herself. 

_I don’t want to be alone all the time anymore_. She turned around and began walking in the opposite direction of home.


	4. A Break in the Routine

Frank folded up a chair near him and hung it up with the rest of the chairs on the wall. The meeting tonight had gone well. There had been a couple of fresh faces and stories and Frank had listened with interest. The new members had introduced themselves and described their time in the military. He had listened as they had shared their feelings about coming back to the civilian world. About nightmares and about feelings of not belonging. About losing their sense of purpose and not knowing what to do with themselves. The faces were new but the stories were familiar. It comforted him a little bit to know that he was not alone.

Not all of the stories were bleak and depressing though. One of the members, Scott Henderson, had shared that he had finally gone a few nights in a row without a single nightmare. Frank had congratulated him feeling genuinely happy for the guy but he couldn’t help and feel a little envious too. Every night when he closed his eyes he still saw Maria’s face and every morning just before waking up his family was killed in front of him all over again.

Tonight Scott had brought his service dog Max with him. Max was a beautiful brown pitbull that, among other things, was trained to wake Scott up when Scott began twitching and moaning in his sleep. Frank loved seeing that dog at the meetings. Scott would let Max go around the group and sniff everyone sometimes. Frank always felt special when Max would linger near him. He was tempted to apply for a service dog himself but he knew he wasn’t in the right place mentally for that kind of responsibility. But Max sure made it seem like a good idea.

In the past few weeks Frank had seen just how much Curtis really cared about the veterans who attended his meetings. Curtis would give the shirt off his back for these guys. He had offered Hugo his couch for a few days when Hugo was evicted from his apartment and had found him a new place to stay. He had helped Francisco get a job. He gave everyone his number in case anyone needed to talk to him at any point during the day. Frank had always known Curtis was someone you could count on, but this was beyond what Frank had imagined. It made him respect Curtis even more than he already did. 

A few of the members had lingered after the meeting, socializing and exchanging contact information. Now it was just Curtis and Frank, cleaning the room up for the night.

“So, how have you been doing, F-... Pete. Damn, I always do that,” Curtis shook his head and laughed as he folded up a chair.

“I’ve been doing alright. Keeping busy. Keeping my mind and body occupied,” Frank said grabbing another chair.

“Has that been helping any?” Curtis asked him as he collected empty plastic cups, throwing them in a trash bag he was carrying.

Frank shrugged, “I think it’s too early to tell.”

“You still getting nightmares?” 

“Every night,” Frank sighed.

They finished cleaning up the room in silence.

“You feel like goin’ out tonight?” Curtis asked folding up the last chair and looking at his watch, “It’s only nine.”

“I dunno. I was thinkin’ of turning in early tonight,” Frank said pulling his black beanie over his head. He had let his hair grow wild again, both on his head and on his face.

Curtis rolled his eyes, “You always say that, man. Come on, let’s go get some food, catch up a little… maybe get a drink after, who knows. The night is young my friend.”

Frank thought it over as Curtis slipped into his leather jacket and they left the room, Curtis locking the doors behind him. On the one hand, he had been awake since before dawn and the thought of sleep sounded really good right now. Besides, what did they have to catch up on? He saw Curtis all the fucking time. On the other hand, well, he was still in a pretty good mood, had been all night, so maybe it was best to just roll with it. 

“What do you say?” Curtis asked him as they exited the building and walked out into the biting cold.

“Well, I’ve had a pretty good routine going these last few weeks…” Frank started.

“Look, I get it,” Curtis said turning to face Frank, “Routine is comforting, I know. But you seem to be happier than usual and I mean, that’s rare. I’m trying to take advantage of it here.”

Frank grinned and shrugged, “Ah, what the hell. Let’s go.”

“Alright!” Curtis clapped him on the back and they made their way out of the building. “I know a great sandwich place in Hell’s Kitchen…”


	5. Josie's

Karen arrived at Josie’s and felt a small wave of anxiety wash over her when she walked inside. The bar was loud and filled with patrons but she spotted Foggy right away seated at a table in the back, surrounded by a group of people all dressed in business attire. Foggy, with his tie loosened, was in the middle of telling them all something when he spotted her in the doorway. “Hold on just a second,” she heard him say before he made his way over to her and embraced her. Any anxiety she had felt dissipated immediately.

“I’m so glad you came out tonight, Karen,” he said giving her a tight squeeze.

Karen smiled, “Thanks for the invite.”

Foggy rolled his eyes, “Karen, you’re always invited. Let me get you a drink and then you can come meet my friends.”

Karen allowed Foggy to guide her over to the large crowd in front of the bar. She stayed behind as Foggy thread his way through to the front. His tall stature and large build made people automatically step aside to make room for him. She watched Foggy get the bartender’s attention right away and shout out his order over the commotion around him. A moment later the bartender handed him two tall glasses nearly overflowing with beer and he returned, holding them up over his head as he weaved through the crowd back to where Karen was standing. He handed one to her and she thanked him, immediately taking a sip. Foggy then led her to the back where his group was sitting talking amongst themselves.

“Guys, this is my good friend Karen,” Foggy said when they walked up to the group. There were two men and two women sitting at the table. Karen recognized Marci but had never seen the other three before.

“Karen, you know Marci,” Foggy said nodding at Marci.

Karen waved at Marci who waved back at her.

“And these are my coworkers James, Sarah, and Dwayne.”

“Nice to meet you,” Karen said shaking hands with each in turn, knowing she would forget their names immediately.

“Here, you can take my seat.” Foggy offered her his seat. Karen sat down next to Marci and James, placing her bags on the table, as Foggy went to find an empty chair.

“You brought some food with you,” Dwayne said using his beer bottle to point at the bag of chinese food she had placed on the table.

“Oh yeah, my boss got this for me because I stayed so late at the office today,” she explained blushing slightly. The nervousness she had been feeling earlier returned with a vengeance. It had been a long time since she had socialized with new people.

“What do you do for work, Karen?” Sarah asked leaning forward. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun which exaggerated her arched eyebrows giving her a severe look.

“I’m an investigative reporter at the New York Bulletin.” Karen said glancing around the table at them. She took a sip of her beer hoping the alcohol would loosen her up a little. 

“Oh, wow. That must be really interesting,” James said turning to face her, his brown eyes sparkling with intrigue, “I’ve probably read some of your articles.”

“Probably,” Karen said blushing slightly. She took another sip of beer.

“I prefer reading the New York Times myself,” Sarah said looking back and forth between Karen and James.

“Uh.. rude much?” Marci said shaking her head at Sarah while Dwayne laughed.

“What? I’m just being honest. You get it, right Karen?” Sarah said arching one of her eyebrows even further up her forehead.

“Don’t worry about her,” Marci said turning to Karen, “I read the New York Bulletin all the time.”

“Yeah, me too,” James said 

Karen was laughing when Foggy returned with an empty chair, “Hey, let me sit next to Karen, James.” Foggy said squeezing his chair between theirs. 

“Okay, okay,” James said scooting his chair over and rolling his eyes. He gave Karen a small smile as Foggy squeezed between them.

Foggy sat down and smiled at Karen and she grinned.

“So, how are ya?”


	6. Out on the Town

“This really is the best reuben I’ve ever had,” Frank said shoving the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, savoring the taste of the melted cheese.

“What did I tell ya?” Curtis said laughing, his breath coming out in puffs in front of his face. They stood outside the sandwich shop, which really embodied the definition of hole in the wall, eating the sandwiches as fast as possible so that they could move on and go indoors where it was warm. 

“It’s a takeout kinda place though,” Curtis added. 

“I don’t care,” Frank said between bites, “It’s worth standing in the cold for.”

“That’s what I’m always sayin’!” Curtis said wadding his sandwich wrapper into a ball and throwing it into the nearest trash can. 

Frank walked over to the garbage and threw out his wrapper too. He turned to face Curtis, “So, where to next?”

“Let’s go get a drink and warm up,” Curtis said shoving his hands into his pockets, “What about that place?” Curtis pointed at a bar across the street with his chin.

Frank looked in the direction Curtis had pointed. A neon sign displaying the words “Josie’s Bar” flickered in the window. The door swung open and a man stumbled out nearly falling down into the street before straightening up and staggering down the sidewalk. In the few moments that the door was open Frank could hear the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses before the door shut again cutting off the noise.

Frank nodded, “Alright. One drink. Then I should head home.”

Curtis nodded and they made their way to the crosswalk.


	7. The Stranger

Karen let Foggy guide most of the conversation. It had gotten rowdier since she had arrived and it was hard to hear or talk to Foggy’s friends across the table without shouting. So she mostly talked to Foggy who was right next to her. They talked about work because that was all she had been up to lately. Despite the loud bar noise she could feel her mood lightening. Foggy had her laughing with stories about some of the ridiculous corporate types he had been encountering at work. She had also finished her beer and James had bought her another. Alcohol always made her giddy as long as she didn’t drink too much.

Eventually, James, Sarah, and Dwayne all took their leave one by one and only Foggy and Marci remained. 

“I think I’m going to head out too,” Marci said glancing at her watch. “It’s getting pretty late. Good seeing you Karen,” she said to Karen and smiled, “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, Foggy.”

Foggy got up and gave Marci a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Karen averted her eyes and finished up her beer. He sat back down noticing her empty glass. “Hey, do you want another?”

Karen smiled, “Sure, thanks, but this will be the last one!”

Foggy winked at her and headed to the bar. Karen twirled the beer glass on the table thinking about Foggy and Marci and how glad she was for them. She smiled to herself. That next beer would probably take her from tipsy to straight up drunk.

“Hey there,” a voice said right next to her ear.

Karen jumped and grabbed for her purse.

“Whoa whoa, easy,” a tall beefy looking man stood next to her holding his hands up. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. You startled me,” Karen said relaxing into her seat again.

“Sorry about that. I’m Mike, mind if I take a seat?”

“Actually I’m-” 

Mike took a seat before she could finish, “I’ve been noticing you all night. You’re really very beautiful, you know. Anyone ever tell you that?” Mike stank of cigarettes and booze. He leered at her with bloodshot eyes, looking her up and down.

Karen shrank into her seat. The way Mike was staring at her made her feel naked and exposed. She glanced at the bar but Foggy was lost amongst the crowd ordering drinks.

“I’m actually here with someone,” she said glancing at the bar again.

“Oh yeah?” Mike half smiled and glanced around, “I don’t see anyone.”

“He’s at the-”

“Say, why don’t we get outta here?” Mike interrupted her again, his words slurred. He placed his hand on her arm. His hand was cold and calloused and she recoiled at his touch.

Karen felt a sudden surge of anger and shook his hand off her arm. “No, thank you. I’m already here with someone.”

Mike eye’s narrowed and he grabbed her arm again, “Come on,” he said tightening his grip and getting up unsteadily from his seat pulling her up with him.

Panic gripped her and she tried planting her feet but Mike pulled and she stumbled a few steps towards him. Karen’s fear quickly turned back into anger and she wrenched herself loose from his grasp. She hurried to the other side of the empty table she had been sitting at, using it as a barrier between them. She clutched her purse to her chest, feeling the shape of the gun through the leather. 

Mike turned around to look at her, “I like a girl who plays hard to get,” he growled.

Just as Mike made to follow her a hand gripped his shoulder and swung him around. “She said no,” the man said menacingly and then punched Mike hard in the face. 

Screams erupted inside the bar as Mike went leering into a nearby table, knocking over glasses and chairs. Karen stood frozen in place. She had recognized that voice. She stared at the man who had come out of nowhere. He had on a beanie low over his forehead and a fully grown bushy beard but she recognized him all the same. Her eyes widened.


	8. Frank Gets Some Advice

Frank stood over the man he had punched shaking with fury. 

He had seen her as soon as they had entered the bar. Blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and a smile playing at her lips. She was hard to miss. 

He had been about to suggest to Curtis that they go to a different bar, when he saw the large drunk man approach her and sit beside her. Saw Karen look around nervously as the guy leaned in just a little too close. Watched as the guy grabbed her arm and Karen pulled away angrily in response. Watched, his jaw clenching, as the drunk guy grabbed her arm again and pulled her up to her feet. When he saw Karen rush to the other side of the table clutching her purse defensively to her chest, a glint of fear in her eyes, something inside of him had snapped. Before he knew it the guy was laying on the ground in front of him, moaning and clutching his face, his nose gruesomely twisted to the side while the people around him backed away screaming and fleeing the bar. 

Frank was looking at Karen now and saw the recognition in her eyes. He was brought immediately back to earth.

“Pete… PETE!” Curtis was yelling at him, “Let’s get out of here. NOW.” 

Frank tore his eyes away from Karen and turned to look at Curtis. Curtis grabbed him by the arm and hauled him towards the exit. 

“Hey! Get back here! Stop them!” He heard someone behind the bar yell.

He glanced back at Karen just before the bar’s doors closed behind them. She was still staring at him, a look of surprise on her face.

“Come on man, run!” Curtis yelled and began hobbling away from the bar. Frank followed and they ran as fast as Curtis was able down an alleyway, putting as much distance between them and the bar as they could. 

No one had gone after them, despite the bartender’s cries. No one had dared. They made it all the way to Central Park anyway, just to be safe. The last thing Frank needed was trouble with the cops. Once there Curtis slowed and then stopped when they were hidden amongst the trees. 

“What were you thinking, Frank?” Curtis said breathing heavily, “Someone could have recognized you. You’re supposed to be laying low.” 

Frank didn’t know how to answer that. The truth was there had been no thought process to it at all. It had just been an instinctive reaction to seeing the fear in her eyes. 

Frank panted and shook his head. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking.” He took his beanie off and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Curtis looked at him, his brows furrowed with worry. “That girl. That’s the reporter Lewis held hostage, right?” 

Frank looked down at his hands. His right hand was bloody from punching the guy at the bar. He could feel his knuckles aching. He nodded slowly avoiding Curtis’s eyes. 

Curtis remained silent watching Frank.

“What’s her deal? Who is she to you?” Curtis finally asked him.

Frank stared at his hands more intently. He didn’t know how to answer this either. How could he explain to Curtis what she meant to him when he didn’t really know himself?

“She’s just…” he looked up at the sky and then back at the ground. Anywhere but Curtis’s face, “She’s someone I need to protect,” he growled.

Curtis realized he needed to tread lightly.

“She looked at you like you were a ghost.”

Frank glanced around them making sure no one was nearby and then began walking East, to get out of the park. Curtis fell into step beside Frank. They remained silent until they reached the edge of the park and were walking in the city again.

“I haven’t contacted her since the Lewis thing,” Frank mumbled not looking at Curtis.

Curtis nodded and waited for Frank to continue.

“She was working for those lawyers who defended me in court. That’s how I met her… anyway, she’s my friend,” Frank said after a long pause, “I didn’t want her to see me like this again. I wanted…” Frank shook his head, “I wanted to be ready.”

Curtis understood what Frank meant without Frank having to explain it. Frank wanted to be _better_.

“Listen, Frank, I like to be optimistic but what if, hypothetically, what if you never become 100% better? Or what if it takes a really long time? Are you just not going to talk to her until then?” Curtis stopped and put a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

Frank stopped walking and finally looked at him. He knew Curtis was right. If he had made any steps forward in his healing, tonight had been a major setback. He couldn’t put it off any longer. 

“You need to talk to her,” Curtis said.

Frank nodded, blinking hard. Curtis patted him on the back and they embraced briefly.

Curtis looked at Frank and chuckled, “Come on, let's go home.”


	9. A Shoulder to Lean On

Foggy rushed over, a beer in each hand, “My God, Karen, are you okay?” He placed the beers on the table and put his hands on her shoulders. 

Karen was still staring at the doorway breathing heavily. The bartender had helped Mike up and had sat him down near the entrance of the bar. “Someone call an ambulance,” she had snapped at her remaining customers who were standing frozen in place.

“What did that guy do to you?” Foggy asked her, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

Karen’s eyes snapped to his, “He just wouldn’t leave me alone and he was trying to pull me along with him,” she paused, “...and that other guy punched him.”

She was shaking. Foggy led her to a chair and she plopped down on it. He sat down in a chair in front of her.

“That guy… the one who came in… he looked really familiar,” Foggy said carefully not taking his eyes off of Karen’s face.

She looked at him, “What do you mean?” She said trying to remain calm. She hoped he hadn’t heard the tremor in her voice.

Foggy raised an eyebrow, “I think you know what I mean, Karen.”

Karen felt herself blush deeply and looked away.

Foggy’s eyes lowered, a look of disappointment etched on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Foggy,” she said tears welling up in her eyes.

“Can we talk about this?” He asked her. She could see he was deeply hurt.

She nodded, “Yes, but let’s talk back at my place.”

They both got up without another word and gathered their things. As they walked towards the entrance the bartender called out to them. 

“Hey, do you guys know the guy who assaulted this guy?” She was pointing at Mike who was sitting in a chair with his head leaning back, holding a plastic bag filled with ice to his face. 

Both Karen and Foggy shook their heads no. 

“Well, do you wanna hang around and leave a statement for the police?” She asked them looking back and forth between the two.

Karen looked at Foggy who looked at her and shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, we’ll stay,” he said to the bartender. They went back to the table they had been sitting at and sat down.

“What good is this going to do, Foggy?” Karen said keeping her voice low.

“They’re not going to catch him if that’s what you’re worried about,” Foggy whispered, “Besides, it would look pretty suspicious if we just left without saying anything.”

Karen couldn’t really argue with that. They sat in silence and waited. Foggy fiddled with his phone while Karen stared into space.

It had definitely been Frank. Even Foggy had recognized him despite the return of the beard. 

_Pete_.

She wondered if he had known she would be there. She felt a mixture of anger and sadness and excitement in the pit of her stomach. _I guess he’s still in New York. Why hasn’t he contacted me?_

The ambulance arrived first. As soon as they saw the state of Mike’s nose they brought out the stretcher. One EMT took a bunch of gauze and held pressure to Mike’s face, “You’re definitely going to need an X-ray, buddy,” he said to Mike. Mike only winced and nodded.

As the ambulance rolled away sirens blaring the two police officers arrived to take statements. They talked to Karen first after they determined that Mike had been talking to her before the incident. She told the officer about how Mike had been trying to pull her away when the man had appeared out of nowhere and punched him in the face.

“Can you tell us anything about what he looked like?” The officer asked her, pen poised over his notepad, a bored expression on his face.

Karen hesitated a moment, “I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” Karen furrowed her brow and pretended to think. “He was probably about 6 feet tall, I think. I don’t know… I don’t really remember, Officer.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

The officer looked at her over his notepad and sighed, “Well, was he overweight? Was he white? Hispanic? What was he wearing?”

“He wasn’t overweight and he’s white… or Hispanic. Could be either one. He was wearing black... I’m sorry, Officer. That’s all I’ve got.”

The cop nodded and scribbled something on his notepad, “Alright, well, thank you ma'am,” he said to her, getting up and shaking her hand. Karen got the feeling that the police didn’t expect to or care about catching Frank.

“Do you still want to come to my place and talk?” She asked Foggy when he was done giving his statement. Foggy nodded. 

They left the bar and hailed a cab. She gave the cab driver her address and sat back to stare out the window. The streets were nearly empty now. It was almost 2:30 in the morning.

Karen watched the buildings go by in a blur. A black shape flitting in and out of view on a rooftop made Karen sit up abruptly.

“You okay?” Foggy said looking concerned.

Karen looked behind her at the rooftops. They looked like any average empty New York City rooftop. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” She said sitting back and facing the front. _Maybe I’ve had too much to drink_. Foggy did not look convinced but he didn’t press the matter.

They arrived at her apartment building a few moments later. As Foggy paid the cab driver Karen glanced up at the rooftops again. Foggy looked up.

“What are you looking for?” He asked her.

She shrugged and shook her head feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin. She felt like she was being watched but she didn’t let that on to Foggy.

They trudged up the stairs and towards her apartment in silence. Once inside she locked the door behind them, making sure to secure the door chain in place. She kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch. Foggy stood near the window, looking out, his hands in his pockets.

“Foggy I -”

“Karen, please. Please, don’t lie to me,” Foggy turned to look at her. She could see him blinking away tears. She felt her throat catch and her eyes began to water too.

“I went through this with Matt… when Matt lied to me, to us, about everything. Remember that? I want us to be able to trust each other,” he said crossing the room and sitting in a chair across from her, “Did you know Frank Castle was still alive?”

Karen blinked, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She nodded.

Foggy let out a breath and stood up again, “How long?”

“Promise me you won’t say anything, Foggy,” she said wiping her eyes and looking at him intently. 

“I won’t pretend to understand why you care about Frank Castle so much. As far as I’m concerned he’s a monster.”

Karen flinched.

Foggy continued, “I won’t say anything, Karen. You trust him for some reason, and I trust you. I don’t need to know any details. I just want to know that you are safe. I want you to be safe, Karen. And careful. This guy is dangerous.”

“Frank Castle would never hurt me,” Karen said keeping her eyes directly on Foggy, “In fact, he saved me from the bomber.”

Foggy remained silent. 

“I trust him,” she said shrugging her shoulders and looking away, “Besides, I can take care of myself.”

Foggy joined her on the couch. “I believe you can take care of yourself, but I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Ever since Matt…”.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she wiped at them fruitlessly. Foggy handed her a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table. She took it and dabbed at her eyes.

“Ever since he passed,” Foggy continued, “You’ve been really distant. You don’t have to grieve alone. I’m here for you,” he said putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “If you ever feel like you are in any kind of trouble please let me know. It doesn’t have to be legal trouble,” he said giving her a half smile.

Karen returned his smile.

“I lost Matt and I don’t want to lose you too,” he added.

Karen felt fresh tears spring to her eyes. She gave Foggy a hug, “Thank you for being such a good friend. I promise I’ll let you know if I get into any trouble.”


	10. The Phone Call

After a short fitful night’s sleep riddled with nightmares, Frank woke up before dawn the next day for his daily run. It was another painfully cold day but there was no hesitation in Frank’s movements. He got out of bed, got dressed in layers, grabbed his ever-present beanie, and was out the door in less than ten minutes.

Every morning he stuck to the same neighborhoods but varied his routes. Today he decided he wanted to end his run near Josie’s. He figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to return to the scene of the crime but something inside him was compelling him to do it. It didn’t matter what kind of arguments the rational part of his brain made against it, the other part would win. As it usually did.

Part of him kind of hoped he’d run into the guy. Discharged from the hospital, nose set with a cast, back at the bar for another drink to numb the pain. He had looked like the kind of guy who hung around bars all day. 

Besides a garbage truck rumbling down the street and a few homeless people sleeping under piles of blankets on benches, the streets of Manhattan were bare. The only sounds were his own footfalls, his steady breathing, and the occasional distant siren. The rhythm of his breathing and his footsteps were the closest Frank could get to a meditative state. His mind switched off. Nothing really mattered but putting one foot in front of the other. It was the only time in the day when he really felt at peace. 

He ran through the alleyways between 8th Ave and 9th Ave, making his way up towards the lower edge of Central Park. By the time he made it there the city was coming to life. The sun was beginning to peak over the skyline. Early morning commuters emerged from subway stations, bleary eyed and sipping on coffee cups. Cars and taxis began to fill the streets and the sounds of horns blaring and people shouting drowned out the sounds of his footsteps. The park was busy with morning joggers dressed in multicolored neon running clothes. Cyclists narrowly weaved in and out of traffic, nearly clipping Frank as he crossed the street to make his way to 5th avenue. It was getting busy, which meant it was time to get back to Hell’s Kitchen.

He ran past high end designer storefronts and yuppie restaurants towards 49th street. There he turned right. Organic juiceries and designer brick and mortars turned into tiny convenience stores and cheap pizza joints the closer he got to Hell’s Kitchen. He ran until he reached the sandwich shop he and Curtis had eaten at the night before. 

Josie’s Bar opened promptly at 7 AM. There were already a few people sprawled out front waiting. Yellowed eyes peeked out from gaunt faces hidden underneath scarves and winter hats, staring into space. A moment later the lights flickered on and the door was unlocked. Josie’s was officially open for the day. 

Frank stood across the street, stretching, and watching the people going inside. A dishevelled older man with a long gray beard, a young looking bald guy shivering in a windbreaker, a short wide woman dressed in navy blue scrubs, and a man wearing an orange safety vest over his gray hoodie. All of them with intact noses. Frank felt a little bit disappointed. The guy deserved more than just a broken nose for harassing Karen. Just remembering made his blood boil. 

Frank gave up and made his way to the subway. It was breakfast time anyway and his stomach was rumbling. He took the train to the Upper East Side and grabbed a copy of the New York Bulletin on his way out of the station. 

At the diner he sat in his usual booth in the back and ordered his usual bacon, eggs, and coffee and scanned the paper. Karen had written an article about a fire that had burned down an entire building in Brooklyn, “Unattended Candle Fire Leaves Fifteen People Homeless in Brooklyn”. Frank stared at her name beneath the title and decided to take Curtis’s advice. He rolled up the paper, took out his flip phone and dialed. 

It rang twice and then she picked up. 

“Hello?”

It had been a long time since he had heard her voice.

“Karen, it’s me,” he said glancing around the diner. There were only four other people and they were all seated at the counter.

“Hey…” she said softly.

“Hey.”

They were silent for a minute and then both spoke at the same time.

“I want to-”

“What was-”

“Sorry, you go,” Karen said.

“We should meet… to talk,” Frank said. The waitress was coming around to refill his coffee. He waved her off.

“Okay, at the water again?” 

“No, let’s go to your place. It’ll be warmer,” Frank said.

“Alright, well, come around at 8 tonight. I’ll be home by then,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’ll see you then,” Frank said.

“See you then.”

He hung up and sat staring out the window for a while with a smile on his face.

“Hot date?” The waitress had come around again and was filling his coffee mug.

Frank turned to look at her. She was looking at him curiously. 

“Going to see an old friend,” he said, “Thank you for the coffee ma'am.”

Frank skimmed through the rest of the newspaper and finished up his breakfast. The sun was now high in the sky and it had warmed up a bit. It was going to be a beautiful day. For the first time in a long time Frank was looking forward to something and everything looked a little bit brighter because of it. He paid his bill and left a fat tip.


	11. The Ghost

Karen glanced at the clock again. She could hardly believe how slow her day was going. After talking to Frank she had knocked out a few articles for the next day’s paper and now it was only noon. She decided she would head out to the nearby deli and buy a sandwich for lunch. That would kill some time. 

She printed out her articles and stopped by Ellison’s office before heading out. 

“I finished the article on the NYU scholarship winner, the grand opening of the new community center in Harlem, and the car accident that happened yesterday in Midtown,” she said placing the articles on Ellison’s desk.

“Wow, okay,” Ellison said looking unsurprised, “I’ll look them over but I’m sure they’re fine.”

“I’m going to head out to the deli and get a sandwich,” Karen said wrapping her scarf around her neck.

Ellison raised an eyebrow, “Not going to work through the lunch hour today?”

“No, I think I’m going to go easy on myself for once,” Karen said smiling.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Ellison said seriously, “I don’t want you working too hard.”

Karen left the office and joined the throng of people moving along the sidewalk. She stuck to the right side to let faster traffic pass her on the left. The deli was only a couple of blocks away so she decided to take her time. She walked at a leisurely pace, looking around at everyone with a smile on her face. It was not very New York of her. 

Her thoughts drifted in and out, not really focusing on anything in particular. Reminding herself of things she should get done when she gets back, deciding what kind of sandwich to get, thinking she should probably clean the apartment before Frank comes over… A man with a guide cane and sunglasses across the street made her stop abruptly in her tracks. 

“Hey! We’re walking here,” a woman in a pantsuit said sarcastically and brushed past Karen.

Karen hardly noticed. She was staring after the man with the guide stick. From that distance he looked exactly like Matt. 

“Matt?” Karen whispered.

The man continued to walk, rhythmically tapping the stick in front of him. People moved instinctively to the side for him, making a kind of human tunnel for him to walk through, then moving back into the space he left behind, swallowing him up in the crowd. 

“Wait!” Karen called. She pushed past people towards the man and crossed the street without looking. A taxi screeched to a halt inches away from her and honked angrily. Karen jumped realizing she was in the middle of the street.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She called to the cab and ran out of the road to the other side. 

“MATT!” She yelled out louder. People looked at her curiously but she didn’t care. She tried to run in the direction the blind man had been walking in but there were too many people. It felt like trying to run against a really strong current. She was bumping into people, trying to peer over their shoulders, snaking her way through trying to get to him. When she emerged from the horde she had reached an intersection. She stopped and looked around her, her breathing fast and shallow. She didn’t know what direction he had gone in. The man was gone.

Karen fell against the brick wall behind her, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Lady, are you okay?” A teenage boy with a skateboard asked her looking concerned.

He looked blurry through her tears. She nodded and wiped at her eyes, “I-I’m fine. Thanks.”

The boy looked unconvinced but got back on his skateboard and left. Karen pushed herself away from the wall. _It wasn’t Matt. It couldn’t have been_. Her heart felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She headed back to the office, forgetting all about lunch.

At her desk she took out her phone and called Foggy.


	12. Queens, NY

Frank had walked to Queens again. It was like he was in a trance that he only got out of when he saw the elementary school’s playground and remembered. Frank stopped and stared at it through the chain link fence. 

There was the swingset where he used to push his children when they had been really little.

“Higher daddy, higher!” Frank Jr would scream.

Lisa would be on another swing demanding it was her turn to be pushed. Frank would then switch to pushing her on the swing and Jr would protest. So Frank would run back and forth between them, push one child and try to run back in time to push the other child as they were swinging back. He would do this for a while and then pretend the effort was too much and make a show of collapsing between them panting heavily. They would jump up and tackle him shrieking with laughter. 

There were other kids playing there now. Other parents watching them. Frank felt the familiar hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. He looked away and pushed off the fence. Time to head back to Manhattan. 

Frank had hoped that visiting his old neighborhood would get easier with time. That if he just did it enough the pain he would feel when he was there would go away. That he’d get used to it and it would become just another place. It would no longer feel like there was a bubble around it. Like it was an unchanging section of Queens. No longer feel like if he just walked all the way to where he used to live, his house would still be there and Maria and the kids would greet him at the door, smothering him with hugs and kisses. He’d only been able to make it as far as the playground before turning back.

He had also hoped that killing Rawlins and having Billy captured would have been enough for him to begin healing. It hadn’t been.

Even burning down his house with all of the possessions he had shared with Maria and the kids, all of the photos, the toys, all of the laughter and sadness… even knowing that if he tried to go to it there would be an empty lot in its place… even that hadn’t been enough. They may be physically gone, completely intangible, but they lived on in his dreams. They lived on in his memories.

Frank walked away from his old neighborhood feeling miserable and alone. He walked without paying much attention to his surroundings. He had walked this same route every day for the past month. He didn’t need to think about it anymore. 

The further he walked away from the place the lighter he began to feel. Residential streets turned into store-lined streets. Families walking together became groups of young 20 somethings and teenagers. Sounds of children laughing and playing became sounds of traffic and people shouting.

Soon he was back in Manhattan and his loneliness fell away like a wolf shedding its winter coat leaving a much thinner coat in its place. It wasn’t that his sadness was completely forgotten. It was that Manhattan had an energy coursing through its streets that Frank couldn’t ignore. An energy he could be distracted by. The thoughts were still there, a constant he had to live with, but it was just a little easier to keep them below the surface. 

Some people felt lonely being surrounded by so many people they didn’t know, but Frank found it comforting. He never felt alone in the city.

He glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon and he wouldn’t be meeting Karen for a few hours. The thought gave him a warm feeling just where he had been feeling a hollow ache before. It confused him but he didn’t try to rationalize it too much. He chalked it up to being excited about seeing a close friend. Besides, it felt too good to really feel good for once and he didn’t want to spoil it by trying to understand it.

He decided he’d hit the gym before heading to her place. He made his way towards the subway with a new bounce in his step, savoring the lightness he felt in his heart.


	13. An Endless Work Day

The one day Karen wanted to leave the office early she was unable to. The staff meeting she had attended that afternoon had gone on longer than she had expected. Then afterwards Ellison had asked her to write two more articles for the next day’s paper because one of the other journalists had gone home sick after lunch. That’s what you get for being so efficient this morning, she thought to herself as she sat at her computer typing up the articles. 

She had all but forgotten about the the man with the guide stick and sunglasses. Calling Foggy had helped her more than she had realized it would. 

“I see people who remind me of Matt all the time. Especially at work. Other lawyers with the same conviction to do right by people. I know it’s hard,” Foggy had said.

It had made her feel so much better. _Of course it hadn’t been Matt_. She tried to ignore the nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

It was 6:30 when she finally got all her articles to the printers and she was able to leave. Ellison apologized to her profusely about giving her the assignments but she waved him off. 

“Do you want a ride home? I drove today. It’s the least I could do,” Ellison said. 

Karen agreed and they left the office together. Ellison’s 2001 subaru forester was parked in a parking garage around the corner. They pulled out of the garage and straight into rush hour traffic. Karen realized that it would have been faster to walk home but she didn’t want to be rude. She was trapped in his car for at least 25 minutes. At least there was a heater.

“Sorry, my heating system doesn’t really work, “ Ellison said as if reading her mind. He turned the knob to maximum for warmth. It didn’t really make much of a difference.

“Don’t worry about it,” Karen said.

“When was the last time you took some time off?” Ellison asked her catching her off guard. 

“Oh.. uh… I… don’t really remember actually,” Karen said thinking back on the last few years.

“Maybe you should take a vacation,” Ellison said tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a red light. 

Karen considered it for a moment. It would be nice to leave the frigid NYC winter and go to a beach somewhere. Relax by the water with a cocktail in her hand. _Alone with your thoughts_. She shook her head.

“Maybe,” she said. She didn’t feel like arguing with Ellison about whether or not she should take a vacation.

"I suppose I could just order you to take one. I am your boss after all," Ellison said.

Karen laughed, "You can't force me to take a vacation. I'll probably take one soon. It has been a while."

Ellison sighed and shook his head knowing she wouldn’t actually do it. 

After slogging through stop and go traffic for what seemed like forever, Ellison finally pulled up in front of her apartment building.

“Thanks for the ride, Ellison. See you Monday!” Karen said cheerfully as she got out. 

She watched him drive off and then glanced at her phone. It was just after seven. She raced up the steps to her apartment. Frank would be arriving in less than an hour and knowing him, he would be arriving at eight on the dot. 

She stepped inside her apartment and looked around in dismay. The place looked like a hurricane had gone through it. The door to her bedroom was ajar and she could see piles of clothes strewn all over the floor. There were unwashed dishes in the sink, paperwork all over the coffee table and there was a thin film of dust covering her bookshelf. 

“Okay then,” she said out loud. This would not do. She had been raised better than this. She changed into an old NYPD t-shirt she had laying around and some cotton shorts. 

She started in the living room since that was probably where they were going to be spending most of their time. She gathered up all the papers and placed them in a neat stack on her desk. Then she lightly dusted the bookshelf, did a quick sweep with her broom, and neatly arranged the throw pillows on the couch. In the kitchen she washed the dishes and put them in the dish rack. She wiped the counters and threw away the chinese food she had left out overnight. She glanced at the clock. He would be there in twenty minutes. She looked around quickly and made sure everything looked neat. She decided she’d just keep the bedroom door closed while he was over.

She rushed into the bathroom for a quick shower. She combed out her hair, applied a little mascara, and dabbed a tiny amount of perfume on her wrists and her neck. She then changed into jeans and a black fitted cashmere sweater that had been gifted to her a few years ago. She glanced at the clock again. She had about five minutes left so she sat on the couch to wait. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her lap. Her foot wiggled as she looked around her apartment. 

_Why am I nervous?_ Frank had been to her apartment before, he knew what it looked like. She just hadn’t talked to him since he saved her from Lewis. She hadn’t even told him about Matt although she had meant to. Frank had just been way too busy hunting down Rawlins and Russo and the subject had never really come up. 

Karen got up and began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back. For the first time in a long time she felt excited to have someone over at her place. Sure, Foggy had been over just last night, but it wasn’t the same. She had always felt a little self conscious around Foggy and Matt and now Foggy’s coworkers. Foggy and his friends were big time lawyers with Ivy League backgrounds. They were high achievers and ambitious. They were... _clean._

Frank was probably the only person Karen felt really comfortable around right now. Like she could be herself. Her _true_ self. She felt like she could tell him about her past and he wouldn’t judge her. Like she could tell him about Wesley. 

Her phone buzzing on the coffee table broke her out of her thoughts.

She picked it up, “Hello?” She said, her voice wavering slightly.

“I’m here. Could you buzz me up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting new chapters on Monday (Christmas day) next week as well as next week Thursday. Stay tuned!


	14. Spare Keys

“Yes,” Karen said and hung up. She pressed the button on the buzzer next to the front door and waited, keeping the door closed and locked until she heard footsteps and then a light knock.

She looked through the peephole. Frank was standing there looking right at it. She unhooked the chain and opened the door.

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside to let Frank inside. 

Frank removed his beanie as he entered the apartment. Karen closed the door behind him. They stood at the doorway a moment looking at each other. He looked good. Healthy. He had a few cuts that were nearly fully healed and a few old bruises on his cheeks. His hair was flattened against his head from wearing his hat. His beard was full but neatly trimmed.

“Should I remove my boots?” Frank asked breaking the silence. 

“Yes, please. Set them right there,” Karen said pointing at her own boots next to the door. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Please,” Frank said as he bent down to untie his combat boots. 

“You can hang your coat in the closet,” Karen said and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, it’s bare contents reminding her she wasn’t equipped to entertain guests.

“All I have is a bottle of red wine, water, and some herbal tea,” she called out from the kitchen.

“Wine sounds good,” Frank said from right behind her. 

Karen jumped at his sudden nearness. Frank stepped back and raised his hands, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Karen laughed, “I’m sorry. I thought you were still at the door.”

Frank smiled and looked behind her at her open refrigerator, “Wow, do you even eat?” 

There was a single slice of swiss cheese, a bottle of wine, and a bag of old green grapes.

“Ugh, I haven’t had time to cook. It’s been mostly takeout lately,” she said taking out the bottle of wine and retrieving two wine glasses from the cupboard. Her stomach growled loudly as she did this and she blushed.

“Okay. You need to eat,” Frank said, “Before we talk let me get you something to eat.”

Karen put the corkscrew she was holding down and gave Frank a look.

“Come on. I’ll just go around the corner and grab something and be right back,” he said already retrieving his beanie from his back pocket and pulling it over his head.

“Okay, well, I can come with you…”

“No,” Frank said quickly. Karen looked at him puzzled. “It’s better if we aren’t seen together...” he said trailing off.

Karen nodded still a little confused but decided he was probably right, “Alright, well, take my spare keys then. I may or may not power nap while you are out.” She walked over to a drawer near the sink and took out a set of keys handing them to him.

Frank took the keys, holding them gingerly in front of him as if they were made of glass and would break at the slightest movement. 

“What’s wrong?” Karen asked him seeing the look on his face

“Nothing,” he placed the keys carefully in the front pocket of his jeans, “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said heading to the door. He laced up his boots and grabbed his coat out of the closet. 

“See you in a bit,” Karen said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Karen sighed and put the bottle of wine back in the fridge. Power nap? Yeah right. She headed towards her desk and grabbed the stack of paperwork.


	15. Trust

Frank walked towards the little grocery store around the corner from Karen’s building, her spare keys feeling heavy in the front pocket of his jeans. He shook his head at himself. He realized now that she really trusted him considering the nonchalant manner in which she had given them to him. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. He now had in his possession keys to her apartment, where she lived by herself. It felt like a huge responsibility. 

The grocery around the corner was a dinky place. Lotto ticket advertisements were plastered on the windows and a homeless man was sleeping on the ground next to the entrance. It was busy inside with people doing last minute shopping. It was late but the place would be open for several more hours. Just another good thing about living in the city that never sleeps.

Frank hadn’t wanted Karen to come with him because grocery shopping had been something that he and his family used to do together. Every Sunday they would all pile into the minivan and head to the grocery store to buy food for the week. He and Maria would walk along the aisles together getting things on the list Maria had made while the children ran around trying to sneak junk food into the cart. It had been a ritual. A tradition. One he wasn’t ready to share with anyone else just yet.

Frank grabbed a small cart and made his way to the produce section. She’s probably expecting some kind of takeout, he thought. He had other plans. He was going to make her his mom’s mushroom tomato sauce. It was his all time favorite meal and it would go well paired with the red wine in her fridge. 

He inspected the tomatoes in the produce section, picking out the choicest ones. There would be no canned tomatoes tonight, no sir. He whistled to himself as he shopped. He grabbed mushrooms and then made his way to the pasta aisle. He had helped his mom make pasta from scratch a few times as a kid but there wouldn’t be time for that tonight. 

Karen had looked kind of gaunt when she had opened the door to let him in. He decided to pick up a few extra things for her. He wondered what she would even like as he perused the shelves. Besides the recipe ingredients he grabbed oatmeal, bread, a bag of apples, and peanut butter. All practical choices he reasoned.

He paid for his groceries and left the store, stopping by the homeless man and giving him one of the apples he had bought. He then returned to Karen’s apartment. The whole thing had taken less than half an hour. He took out her keys and unlocked the main entrance then made the trek up to the third floor carrying all the grocery bags with one arm. He unlocked her door as quietly as he could in case she really had gone to sleep although he suspected she hadn’t.

Karen came to the door and greeted him. She had obviously not slept. The paperwork on the desk behind her was scattered all over the place. 

“I was only gone thirty minutes,” Frank said looking at the papers.

“What?” Karen turned to look behind her, “Oh. Yeah, just doing a little work,” she took one of the bags from his arm and took it to the kitchen, “I thought you were going to get takeout. What is this?”

“Yeah, I decided I’m going to cook. I think you’ve probably had enough takeout,” Frank said locking the door behind him and securing the chain in place.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Karen was looking at him her hands on her hips.

“Oh, I mean.... No, because it’s unhealthy, I meant to say you probably have had enough of takeout...” Frank backpedaled.

Karen was grinning at him. 

Frank shook his head and smiled, “Well, I wanted to get something healthier for you anyway,” he said taking off his boots and coat and putting them away. He joined her in the kitchen bringing the rest of the groceries with him.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said opening a drawer she was standing next to and taking out a folded piece of cloth. She threw it at Frank, “Think fast!”

Frank turned around, the cloth hitting him in the face.

Karen covered her mouth trying not to laugh. Frank picked up the piece of cloth and unfolded it. It was a multicolored floral apron that looked about two sizes too small for him.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t want to get your clothes dirty, right?” Karen said unable to contain her laughter.

Frank couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He relented, “Alright…” he said pulling the apron over his head and reaching the straps behind him. 

“Here,” Karen said taking the straps from him and tying the apron. 

The apron fit snugly on Frank’s muscular body. It barely even spanned his entire chest. He looked down at himself in disbelief, “I look stupid,” he said shaking his head.

“No… no… you.. look...” Karen couldn’t even finish her sentence she was laughing so hard.

“Okay, I’m taking it off,” Frank said reaching behind him.

“No! No, please. I need this,” Karen said tears streaming down her face. He could see she was trying really hard to contain her laughter. Her cheeks were now flushed and her eyes were bright. She looked healthier already. 

“Fine. But I’m going to need a drink,” Frank said grabbing the nearest grocery bag. He smiled in spite of himself.

Karen nodded vigorously and grabbed the wine bottle out of the fridge filling the two wine glasses she had taken out earlier.

“Cheers,” she said handing Frank a glass.

“Cheers,” he said taking a sip.


	16. Brother

Karen put on some classical music and set the table while Frank cooked. She took the pot of white roses she kept on a table near the window and placed them neatly at the center admiring her work. She glanced at the kitchen and watched Frank. He had some pasta already on the stove and was now expertly chopping vegetables. 

It was hard to believe this was the same man known as the Punisher. Hard to believe he had killed so many people. Karen calculated the number was probably over 50. He looked so… normal cooking in her kitchen wearing a multicolored floral apron. It was easy to forget that he had violently killed people right in front of her own eyes. She felt like no one else really knew this side of him. This was the part of Frank she really liked. The part she wanted to keep bringing out.

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of freshly chopped mushroom.

“Hey, that’s for the sauce,” Frank said moving the vegetables out of her reach.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said grinning and popping the mushroom into her mouth.

“My mom taught me when I was kid. I helped around the house a lot then,” he said dumping the vegetables into a pot.

Karen pictured a much younger Frank wearing an apron and making tomato sauce for his parents. She found the thought incredibly endearing.

“I became kind of an asshole when I got older though,” he added as he stirred the sauce, “My parents had a hard time controlling me.”

She wasn’t very surprised to hear this, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” She asked him, wanting a better picture of his childhood. She hoisted herself onto the counter across from the oven where Frank was cooking.

“Nope, just me,” he said, leaning against the counter next to the stove and crossing his arms. The apron strained against his chest. “What about you, Karen? Any brothers or sisters?”

Karen lowered her eyes feeling a pang of sadness and guilt. She should’ve figured he would ask.

“I had a brother. He died in a car accident,” she said willing herself not to start crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Karen,” Frank said. He made like he was going to go to her and then hesitated.

Karen blinked rapidly, “It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it,” she said getting down from the counter, “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go wash my hands.”

Frank nodded and looked at her doubtfully. She escaped to her bedroom and closed the door behind her wiping away the tears that had come anyway. She went into her bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her blue eyes were rimmed red and a bit of mascara had smudged onto her eyelids. She washed off the mascara and dried her face. 

She suddenly realized she hadn’t told anyone about her brother Kevin. Not even Foggy. Matt had known about Kevin’s existence but nothing else. The only two people in New York City who knew the full story were Ellison and Ulrich and Ulrich was dead. Now Frank knew that she had a dead brother. The thought bothered her less than she thought it would. She wasn’t ready to tell him the full story though and she hoped he wouldn’t ask.

The smell of tomato sauce lured her out of her bedroom. Frank had placed serving dishes with the pasta and sauce at the center of the table. The apron he had been wearing was folded neatly and left on the counter. Karen looked at it all in surprise.

“Wow, that was fast,” Karen said.

Frank shrugged humbly, “You were in there kinda long.”

“Sorry, I was just washing my face,” Karen apologized but Frank was shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, “Here, take a seat.” He pulled out a chair for her. 

Karen sat down and Frank pushed her chair in. 

“Ooh, fancy,” she teased.

She wasn’t sure but she thought she could see a hint of pink on his cheeks. He sat down across from her and handed her a serving spoon.

“Eat up,” he said.


	17. Dinner for Two

“Bon appetit,” Karen said.

“Bon appetit.”

Frank watched nervously as Karen twirled pasta onto her fork and took her first bite. Her eyes widened as she chewed and Frank relaxed.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Karen said, “My compliments to the chef.”

Frank grinned and picked up his fork, “It’s a family recipe,” he said taking a bite.

The texture of the mushroom tomato sauce had come out perfectly, not too watery, not too dry. The pasta was cooked al dente and he had gotten the timing exactly right. The fresh parmesan cheese he had chosen was rich and blended well with the sauce.

Karen took a sip of her wine, “This is so much better than takeout. I might need you to come cook for me more often.”

Frank smiled imagining coming by every Friday to cook her another Italian dish. The thought actually made him feel good. Like he was needed. _I could probably fit that into my routine._

Karen finished her first serving quickly and went for seconds. Frank ate more too and soon they had eaten every last bite. Karen was on her third glass of wine and was giggling madly about something Frank had said. He didn’t even remember what he had been talking about he was too enraptured by her laughter. He found he wanted to keep making her laugh.

Karen sat back in her chair, cheeks flushed, a strand of her hair hanging down on her cheek and a twinkle in her eyes. Frank poured himself another glass of wine and then topped off Karen’s glass with the rest of it. 

“I guess we drank all the wine,” Karen said holding up her glass, “Cheers again!”

“Cheers,” he clinked his glass with hers and they sipped. 

“You know… I haven’t had this much fun in a really long time,” Karen said thoughtfully.

Frank thought back on the past few years and nodded, “Me too.” 

He caught her eye and saw she was smiling at him. Even in the dim light of her apartment she was a vision. Frank looked away and swallowed hard feeling a sudden rush of guilt. 

“Frank?” Karen said softly.

Frank looked up at her again. Her expression was more serious.

“Where have you been the last month?” she asked him.


	18. Frank Explains

Karen watched Frank shift uncomfortably in his seat across from her.

“Karen… it’s not that I didn’t want to see you,” he started. He paused running his right hand through his hair. Karen could see small cuts on his knuckles that he had probably gotten the night before.

“Why didn’t you contact me? Why didn’t you tell me they had given you a new identity?” She asked him. The giddiness she had been feeling before was rapidly fading. Now she just felt an incredible sadness.

“You heard about that?” 

“Yeah. From Madani,” she said.

“Madani,” Frank chuckled shaking his head.

Karen waited expectantly. Frank sighed.

“I’m known as Pete Castiglione now. Madani gave me new paperwork, a passport, a driver's license, even money to get myself started.”

Frank paused and rubbed his forehead.

“After they arrested Billy and took him into custody, I thought I was done. That it was over. I had gotten everyone who had been involved. I’m supposed to get better now, right?” He said, his voice cracking slightly.

Karen looked at him sadly. She wanted to go over to him and wrap him in a hug.

“I’m not getting better, Karen. I still have nightmares every night. I still have this anger inside of me. It’s like it’s dormant right now, just waiting for a reason to come out…”

“Like last night?” Karen asked him.

Frank nodded, “Like last night.”

Karen put her wine glass down on the table and sat up, “Don’t go after that guy, Frank. It was nothing. I had it under control.”

Frank's eyes narrowed and she could see his jaw beginning to clench.

“He put his hands on you!” He protested.

“Frank, please. It’s not worth it,” she said reaching her hand out to him.

He looked up at her and his expression softened. He leaned forward and took her hand. His hand was warm and the tips of his fingers were calloused.

“Fine. I won’t go after him but if I run into him… well, I can’t really promise anything,” he said more calmly, absentmindedly rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. 

“Just don’t kill the guy, Frank,” she said watching his hand. It was an intimate gesture. She didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

“‘I’ll try not to,” he said letting go of her hand.

That was probably the best she could hope for. 

“I’ll take it,” she said giving him a smile.

Frank sat back and returned her smile.

Karen grabbed her napkin and began folding it nervously. She had hoped that Frank would be done with the Punishing once he had gotten rid of Rawlins and Billy. She now realized it was much more complicated than that. That it wasn’t going to be an easy fix. That he wasn’t just going to go back to being a normal member of society right away. If ever. That didn’t stop her from desperately wanting it for him though. She didn’t think she’d ever give up having hope.

“I’m sorry you haven’t gotten better, Frank,” she said, “It will probably take some time.”

“I know,” Frank said.

“I want you to get better.”

“I know.”


	19. White Rose

Frank gathered the dishes from the table and took them to the sink.

“Do you want some tea?” Karen asked joining him in the kitchen.

“Sure, nothing with caffeine though,” he said.

“All I’ve got is herbal tea,” she said busying herself with the kettle.

Karen finished the tea and handed him a mug taking her own with her to the couch. Frank followed. She sat down and Frank sat on the other end. He took a sip. It had a strange floral taste.

“Hmm… What kind of tea is this?” He asked her.

“White rose,” she said.

Frank thought about the flowers on the table and wondered if it was a coincidence.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s uh… it definitely tastes like roses,” he said taking another sip.

She laughed and he felt a flutter inside his chest. He looked around her living room trying to distract himself from his feelings. On the bookshelf behind her she had placed some framed photographs. Karen in a cap and gown, Karen standing near the water with the statue of liberty behind her, Karen and the two lawyers who had represented him in court, and a child Karen standing in front of a house covered in snow. He wondered where that house was located.

“You still hanging out with those lawyer friends of yours?” He asked her.

Karen fell silent.

Frank turned to look at her. She was looking down at her tea blinking hard.

“Karen?”

“I still see Foggy all the time,” she said.

Frank waited for her to continue.

She looked behind her at the picture on the bookshelf, “Matt passed away,” she said softly, her voice wavering.

“Jesus, Karen, I had no idea,” he said putting his mug down on the coffee table. “What happened?”

“It was a couple of months ago. I’d rather not talk about it,” she said letting out a shuddering sigh.

Frank nodded. He suspected it probably had something to do with Murdock’s extracurricular activities. No wonder Karen had been looking so gaunt. Frank thought back to their conversation at the water, when she had talked to him about loneliness. It was all starting to make sense. Her happiness at seeing him when he sought her out to help him find Micro, her asking him when they would see eachother again, her sadness when he climbed out of the elevator after saving her…

Frank suddenly felt like absolute shit. Here was someone who actually cared about him and he hadn’t been there for her when she had needed it the most. He hadn’t even realized she had been, _was still_ , grieving. She had loved Murdock, he knew that. _She must be in so much pain._

“So, what _have_ you been doing for the last few weeks then?” Karen asked breaking the silence and changing the subject. She turned to face him and brought her bare feet up on the couch. Her toenails were neatly trimmed and the clear polish glinted in the light. 

She didn’t want to talk about it right now and he respected that even though he really, _really_ wanted to apologize to her.

“Well, I have this routine…”

Frank told her about his strict daily routine. About running every morning, and the diner, about walking to Queens, though he left out the part about his old neighborhood. He told her about hitting the gym on some days and attending Curtis’s PTSD meetings on others. Karen listened with rapt attention. 

“What are the meetings like?” She asked placing a pillow behind her head.

“They’re pretty good. Lots of vets attend, probably around fifteen to twenty per session. There are a lot of regulars.”

“Describe it to me,” she said putting her mug down on the coffee table.

Frank sat back and told her about Curtis and how dedicated Curtis was to the group. He told her about the first time he had attended a meeting and how nervous he had felt. How it had gotten much easier to share his stories with time. He also told her about the vet who brought his service dog Max with him to the meetings sometimes.

“I really like that dog,” he said grinning into his mug.

Karen didn’t respond. Frank turned to look at her and saw she had fallen asleep. Her breathing was steady and deep, her blonde hair spread out behind her on the pillow. She had her hands tucked between her thighs for warmth. Frank smiled and set his mug down. He glanced at his watch. It was two in the morning. _Christ, where did the time go?_

He got up and opened the door to her bedroom, letting out a little laugh when he saw the piles of clothes everywhere. He returned to the couch and placed one arm underneath Karen’s back and the other under her knees, picking her up gently from the couch. Her head rested on his chest as he walked back towards her bedroom. He could smell a hint of a floral, citrusy scent on her. 

He placed her lightly on the bed and covered her with the light blue duvet making sure to tuck her feet in.

“Frank?” Karen said sleepily. Her eyes were still closed. “When will I see you again?”

“Soon. I promise,” he said but she had already gone back to sleep. 

He left the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him.


	20. The Escape

Jeremy sauntered down the hospital hallway, his gun belt feeling like a heavy and dangerous fanny-pack. He was dressed as a police officer, uniform, badge, and equipment provided by ANVIL. He was making his way down the hall to Billy’s hospital room. Getting past the hospital security had been way too easy. _Act like you belong and people will think you do belong_. Jeremy chuckled to himself. 

Outside Billy’s room a police officer sat playing on his smartphone. "Evening, Officer Jones. I’m here to relieve you,” Jeremy said. 

Officer Jones looked up from his phone and then glanced at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’ve still got another hour on my shift Officer…” Jones peered at Jeremy’s name badge, “Rogers?”

“They want you back at headquarters. Something about a misconduct…?”

“Shit,” Jones muttered. He got up and handed Jeremy a walkie talkie as well as a set of keys. “Have fun. This gig is pretty boring.”

Jeremy shrugged, “I’ll try,” he said picking up a clipboard that had been next to the chair and signing himself in as “Carl Rogers”.

Officer Jones turned to leave but stopped abruptly, “Hey, how come I don’t recognize you?” He asked cocking his head to the side.

Jeremy flashed his most charming grin, “I work in Queens. Your department has asked us to provide a few officers to help with the workload,” Jeremy said not skipping a beat.

“Oh, okay. Cool, Lord knows we need it. Could I see your badge though, just to verify.” Jones said. 

Jeremy took out his ID badge and flipped it open handing it to Officer Jones. Jones read it and compared Jeremy to the photo. As far as he knew it was legit.

“Thanks man. Standard procedure, you know how it is.” Jones said handing the badge back.

Jeremy shrugged, “No problem.”

He watched Jones walk to the elevator. He waited five full minutes after the elevator had left, then he got up and opened the door to Billy Russo’s room making sure the nurses were busy at the station before he shut the door behind him.

Jeremy turned around and pulled back the curtain that had been obscuring Billy Russo’s bed. What he saw made him stop in his tracks. The man in the bed looked nothing like the Billy Russo he had known. Billy looked thinner than he had ever seen him. Half of his face was covered with bandages, the other was left uncovered. The part of his face that Jeremy could see was covered in thick ugly lines where the doctors had sutured Billy’s skin back in place. Billy’s skin was still black, blue, and purple, on his face as well as on his chest and arms. An IV line had been placed in Billy’s arm and was pumping him with fluids. Jeremy could see a bag hanging off the bottom of the bed. It was filled with bloody urine. A thin tube protruded from the top of the bag and disappeared under the covers. 

When Jeremy looked at him the only thing he could think was that Billy looked like some kind of freakazoid Frankenstein.

“Sir, it’s me Jeremy,” he said slowly approaching the hospital bed. 

Billy’s eyes flickered open and looked at him. Jeremy could see the Billy he had once known in them.

“It’s about time,” Billy said grimacing. It looked like he had tried to smile but had then decided against it. 

“Apologies, sir. I had to wait for -”

“Forget it,” BIlly croaked interrupting him, “I want to begin my plans.”

In the days before Billy was put in the hospital he had come up with an escape plan in case things went awry with Frank and he made it out alive. He had trusted in Jeremy and had given him a hefty advance to carry it out. If truth be told, Jeremy couldn't care less about the money and Billy knew this. It was why he put so much trust in Jeremy. Billy knew Jeremy enjoyed playing dirty more than anything else. More than money, hell, probably more than his life.

Billy’s plan called for a bunch of his ANVIL employees to break him out of the hospital and take him back to a warehouse he owned where they could hide him while he recovered fully. A few of Billy’s staff were former army healthcare workers and were prepared to nurse him back to health. 

The plan was simple: Jeremy and a bunch of other ANVIL employees were to disguise themselves as hospital staff, uniforms and badges already acquired by Billy beforehand, with Jeremy acting as the NYPD officer guarding Billy’s room. At precisely 0155 hours Jeremy would administer a high dose of pain medication to Billy, just enough to knock him out so that he wouldn’t feel the pain while they moved him. At the same time, one of their men, who would be waiting in a van in the parking lot, would deactivate all of the hospital security cameras remotely from his computer. Only after that was done would any of the rest of the ANVIL staff enter the hospital. Then at 0200 hours another ANVIL employee, dressed as a nurse, would walk into a room on the other side of Billy’s unit, medically induce cardiac arrest in the patient there, hit the code blue button, and run out of the room screaming about an emergency, before exiting via the nearest stairwell. At the same time, two other ANVIL employees, dressed as hospital patient transporters would be arriving on the unit. They would walk towards Billy’s room, load him up on the bed, and calmly walk towards the elevators. _Act like you belong and you will belong_. This part of their plan was contingent on the rest of the hospital staff flocking towards the room where the code blue was taking place. A getaway van would be waiting for them downstairs. 

If everything went according to plan, they would have Billy out and in the van by 0225. It was a plan full of risk, banking on factors that were outside of their control. But Billy Russo liked risk and so did Jeremy. The plan called for Jeremy to be the only participant to be exposed to the security cameras. He was okay with this, in fact he volunteered for it, as Billy knew he would. He had grown a mustache, put on color contacts, and dyed his hair gray to disguise himself. 

If things didn’t go as planned, every ANVIL employee had a walkie talkie and was armed. All you had to do was bring out your gun and people would do anything you say. Jeremy wasn’t afraid to shoot if he had to. From what Jeremy could see, the hospital security was a joke, so they had that working in their favor.

Jeremy took out the keys that Jones had given him and unlocked Billy’s handcuffs. He could see angry red marks on Billy’s wrists where Billy had strained against them. He glanced at the clock. 

_01:52:15_

‘You ready, sir?”

Billy looked him in the eyes, there was a fire burning in them, “The question is, are you ready?”

Jeremy grinned and patted his gun, “We’ll get you out of here.” 

He took a syringe and a small vial out of his pocket, “Next time you wake up, you’ll be exactly where you want to be,” he said turning the vial upside down, inserting the syringe, and drawing it back. He tapped the syringe to get rid of any air bubbles then glanced at the clock again.

_01:54:45_

He turned to look at Billy and winked, “Let’s do this.”


	21. The Morning After

Karen had only gotten a few hours of sleep when the harsh din of her phone alarm shook her awake. She groaned and grabbed her phone off the nightstand, swiping right to snooze the alarm. She closed her eyes and lay there for what felt like a second when the phone began blaring again.

“Ugh, okay. Okay!” She said sitting up and unlocking her phone to shut the alarm off. She had seven missed calls, two voicemails, and three text messages. Karen was suddenly wide awake.

Five of the calls were from Ellison and two were from Foggy. She opened up the text messages. They were all from Ellison.

_Karen, please call me as soon as you get this._

_Karen, Russo has escaped._

_Come in, Karen, are you awake? Please come down to the office when you get this._

Her fingers couldn’t type fast enough.

_I’m coming in right now. Expect me in 20 minutes._

She glanced at the time. It was 8:30 in the morning. “Shit, shit, shit!” Karen threw off the covers and grabbed the first pencil skirt and blouse combination that she could find. Rushing to the bathroom, she hastily brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair.

It wasn’t until she ran out of her room into the living room that she remembered she had had Frank over for dinner last night.

“Frank?” She called but the apartment was empty. 

She walked over to the kitchen. Frank had cleaned up all the dishes and placed them neatly in the dish rack. He had also left a bowl of apples on the counter. _Since when do I have apples?_

He had left a post-it note on the fridge for her. It was written in a surprisingly neat cursive.

“Karen. I still have your spare keys with me because I didn’t want to leave your apartment locked with only one of the locks. I can bring them with me next time I see you.

\- F”

She smiled staring at his handwriting. At the way he had written her name. She must’ve have fallen asleep while they were talking on the couch. Which means he had carried her to her bedroom…

Her phone buzzing broke her out of her reverie. It was Ellison.

She answered, “Ellison, I’m on my way,” she said, hanging up immediately.

She threw on her coat, jammed her feet into her boots, and grabbed her purse. She fumbled with her keys as she locked her apartment door behind her, then bounded down the stairwell steps and burst out the building’s exit.

It was a brisk New York morning and already the streets were bustling. She walked quickly in the direction of work, appreciating the proximity of her apartment to the office. Placing her trembling hands, both from the cold and the adrenaline rush, into her pockets she mentally kicked herself for forgetting her gloves again. She made a mental note to put them in her purse later. 

The news station was in chaos when she arrived fifteen minutes later. Phones were ringing off the hook and people were running around jotting down information on pads of paper. Ellison pulled her into his office as soon as he spotted her. 

“Here,” he handed her a coffee from the local coffee shop.

Karen took it gratefully and sipped. Ellison turned up the volume on the television screen which was tuned into the local news. A news anchor was standing outside the hospital room Billy Russo had been in, holding out the microphone to a nurse.

“We had a patient emergency last night around two in the morning,” a nurse was saying gesturing behind her. “It was all hands on deck. When the emergency was over Mr. Russo was just.. gone. Both of them. The police officer who had been guarding him was gone too,” 

The camera turned back to the reporter, “The identity of that police officer is currently under investigation. This is Tom Haskins reporting from University Medical Center. Back to you Francis.”

The television cut to a newsroom, “Thank you for that report, Tom. It has been confirmed that every single security camera inside of the University Medical Center was down for the half hour period between the hours of 2 and 2:30 in the morning, which is the timeframe in which police speculate Russo escaped. The only relevant CCTV footage authorities were able to acquire are of the period right before the cameras went down. In this clip, the police officer who had been guarding Billy’s room just before his escape can be seen...”

The television now cut to grainy CCTV footage showing a normal hospital hallway. In the top right corner a nurses station could be seen. Two nurses were seated and standing around it working on paperwork. On the left a police officer sat next to the door to a patient room, looking at his cell phone. Another police officer appeared from the bottom of the screen and spoke to the officer on duty for a few minutes. The officer on duty then got up and disappeared from view, the new officer sat down in the chair. He sat for a few minutes and then got up, glancing down the hallway in the direction of the security camera, before entering Billy’s room. 

“This is the only footage authorities were able to recover. The police officer who was with William Russo when the cameras went down is currently a person of interest,” the news reporter said. The television displayed a still of the police officer looking down the hallway. The quality of the footage was not very good and it was difficult to make out any features but Karen could see the man had a mustache and a muscular build. 

Ellison shut the TV off, “I want you on the scene,” Ellison said.

“I can’t believe he managed to escape. This guy is a dangerous criminal! You’d think they’d have more security on him,” Karen said exasperated.

Ellison shook his head and sighed, “They had the guy handcuffed to a bed. He was severely injured. I guess they thought the chances of him getting out were low...whatever the reason, I want you to go over there. Interview as many people as you can. Police, doctors, nurses, patients if you have to. Find out how this could have happened. Find out how the hospital security and the police could possibly have let this happen. I want a full report by tonight. Can you handle that?”

Karen nodded, “I’m on it.” She took a final sip of her coffee and left the office. 

Outside she hailed a cab. Once she was seated she pulled out her phone to listen to her voicemail messages. She had one new missed call from an unknown number and a new voicemail message. She listened to the messages. The first message was from Ellison urging her to call him as soon as possible. The second was from Foggy asking her if she was okay and to call or text as soon as she could. The third, from the unknown number, had not left a message. She had a feeling she knew who it was. Karen opened up her contacts and dialed Foggy’s number. She looked out the window as she waited for him to pick up. It was going to be a long day.


	22. Man on a Mission

Frank stared at the television set above his head. He was sitting in the booth at his favorite diner in Upper Manhattan with a plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee laid out in front of him untouched.

“Hey, could you turn that up?” He called to the waitress behind the counter.

She grabbed a remote and raised the volume.

“It has been confirmed that former marine and CEO of a company called ANVIL, William Russo, accused of illegal military operations including assassination and drug trafficking, has escaped from his hospital room at the University Medical Center in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. This man is extremely dangerous. If anyone has any information, please call the number on the screen…”

Frank sat back in his seat his heart beating rapidly in his chest. _I should’ve killed him. I should’ve fucking killed him._ Without thinking he grabbed his phone and called Karen’s number. It rang a few times and then went to voicemail. He listened to the whole thing.

“You have reached Karen Page. I am not available right now. Please leave a message after the beep, thanks!”

The phone beeped and he hung up. He sat staring down at his hands. They were shaking uncontrollably. 

He grabbed the newspaper in front of him, turning the pages rapidly, until he found the newspaper’s contact information. He dialed the number and waited patiently, trying to calm his breathing.

“New York Bulletin, how can I help you?” A tired voice said on the other line.

“Yes, could I speak to Miss Karen Page, please? I have some information I would like to relay to her about William Russo’s escape…” Frank said keeping his voice steady.

“Okay, can I ask who is speaking?”

“I would rather remain anonymous…”

“Alright, can I place you briefly on hold?”

“Yeah,” Frank grunted. He heard a click and then jazz music begin to play. Frank waited, taking his fork and shovelling his food around his plate.

“Sir?” The tired voice came back.

“Yes?” Frank said, heart racing.

“Miss Page just stepped out. Could I get your-”

Frank hung up. His mind raced. _Karen is okay._ He grabbed his fork and ate quickly. _I need to find Billy and I need to put a stop to this._ With a new sense of determination he gulped down his coffee before leaving a bunch of bills on the table and exiting the diner.

Forgetting all about his daily routine, Frank jogged over to the nearest subway station and bounded down the steps.


	23. Detective Brett Mahoney

Karen sat at a desk in an office at the police station, across from Officer Jones who had been guarding Billy Russo just before the unknown cop had helped Billy escape.

Officer Jones handed Karen Page the clipboard oncoming officers used to sign in to their shifts upon arriving at Billy’s room. Underneath Jones’s own name someone had scribbled the name “Carl Rogers”.

“As I said, there is no record of a cop named Carl Rogers. The guy told me he came from the department in Queens. Said we had called them in to help with the workload. I bought it. I completely bought it.” Officer Jones said placing his head in his hands. He looked worse for wear. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale.

“What made you so sure he was telling the truth?” Karen asked him placing the clipboard on the desk between them.

“I think that’s enough questions for today,” A voice from behind them said. Karen turned around to see detective Brett Mahoney standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Officer Jones, the Captain wants to see you.”

Jones stood up reluctantly and left the room.

“Karen, we meet again,” Brett said taking the seat that Officer Jones had been in. “How’d you even get in here anyway? Officer Jones isn’t supposed to be answering any questions.”

“I have my ways,” Karen smiled. “ It seems like you guys should be preventing these kinds of things from happening. Preventing people from being where they’re not supposed to be?”  
Mahoney looked at her and smirked. “Can we talk for a minute, off the record?”

She nodded and put her notepad in her bag.

“The truth is, I don’t know who I can really trust on my own team. I have a strong suspicion that some of the officers I work with are not exactly honest but I have no way of proving it,” Mahoney sighed. 

“Well, the officer who helped Billy escape wasn’t even an actual cop, right?”

Mahoney nodded, “Right. We can get to your questions now,” He said gesturing at her bag.

Karen pulled out her notepad and pen, “Detective, can you tell me how something like this was allowed to happen?”

Mahoney pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose.


	24. Stop #1

Frank knocked lightly on Curtis’s apartment door. Curtis opened the door a few moments later leaning against his crutches, “I figured you’d come see me,” he said hopping aside to let Frank in.

Frank entered the apartment and cut right to the chase, “Curtis, you need to leave town.”

“Uh-uh. Nope. I knew you were going to say that,” Curtis said maneuvering to the couch. 

“Curtis, he tried to kill you last time…” Frank started.

“Yeah, and I’m still alive, right?” Curtis cut him off, sitting down and laying his crutches down in front of him. He looked up at Frank, “I can’t just leave town. I have work, I have responsibilities. The group… they need me…”

Frank joined him on the couch, “Billy nearly _killed_ you last time-”

“Yeah, but he didn’t. And he’s probably going to go after you now isn’t he? In fact, you probably shouldn’t even be here,” Curtis said.

“He wants me, he can come and get me. I beat the shit out of him one time, I can do it again…” Frank said clenching his fists.

“And I’m going to stay right here. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Hand me my leg, will you?” Curtis pointed at his prosthetic leg in the corner of the room. 

Frank got up and picked it up, surprised at how heavy it was, and handed it to Curtis. 

“Have you talked to the reporter?” Curtis asked him as he began to put his prosthetic leg on.

“Karen? Yeah. I went over to her place last night, actually,” Frank said sitting on the couch next to Curtis again.

“Yeah? How did that go?”

“It was good,” Frank said shrugging.

Curtis stared at him.

“Fine. It was the best time I’ve had in a long time and you were right. I should have talked to her sooner,” Frank said, avoiding Curtis's eyes.

Curtis laughed and finished adjusting his leg.

“Did you talk to her this morning though? After the news broke out?”

“Not directly. I called her when I saw the news but she didn’t pick up. I called the newspaper where she works. They said she had just left…”

Curtis gave him a look.

“What?” Frank looked at him defensively, “There’s no way Billy got to her already. I will call her again later.”

“Good. If anyone needs to be kept safe, it’s her.” 

Frank’s face hardened and he clenched his fists again, “There is no way I will let anything bad happen to her.”

“You don’t need to convince _me_.” Curtis said pointedly. 

Frank got up, “Alright, alright. I get it. Look, if you hear anything-”

“I know, I know. I know what to do. Now get out of here,” Curtis stood up and walked him to the door. 

Frank knew Curtis Hoyle could hold his own. Still, he worried. He would have felt a lot better if Curtis left town right away. One less person for Billy to go after.

Frank left Curtis’s apartment and made his way to the Subway again. He knew Curtis was right and that he needed to talk to Karen. To make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble, especially now that Billy was at large. He decided he would go directly to her work after his next stop and wait for her to appear. Feeling better, he hopped onto a train. It was time to head to Staten Island.


	25. Dinah Madani

Karen waited on a bench in the hospital courtyard, tightening her scarf around her neck. She was waiting for Dinah Madani to meet her. Madani had been on the scene for hours now, gathering information on what had happened. Karen was amazed that she was going to be able to talk to her so early in the investigation, although she knew the reason why. Madani likely had questions for _her_ too.

She glanced down at the notes she had taken during her interview with Detective Mahoney. She had learned that Carl Rogers was not really a cop and there was no record of a Carl Rogers anywhere, not even Queens. Detective Mahoney had concluded it was a fake name. She had learned that Officer Jones was suspended without pay until further notice, and she had gotten a copy of a police sketch of the person of interest. 

A thud made Karen look up with a start. Her eyes darted around the courtyard but she couldn’t see anyone else around. Karen looked up at the rooftops. A few birds circled overhead. It was silent save for the rustling of the trees.

Karen hugged her paperwork to her chest. A cold gust of wind made her eyes sting. She wished Madani would hurry up. The courtyard felt suddenly eerie.

She turned around at the sound of automatic doors opening and closing behind her and a wave of relief washed over her. Madani was walking towards her, her heels echoing.

“Karen, how are you?,” Madani said, walking up and extending her hand.

“I am well, how are you?” Karen shook Madani’s hand.

“Good, good,” Madani said distractedly, taking a seat next to Karen. “So, you have some questions for me?” She said eyeing Karen’s stack of paperwork.

Karen nodded and took out a pen, “Yes, about Russo’s escape…”

Madani sighed, “I should’ve known this would happen. I should’ve put more men on him, more guards, more security…”

Madani looked more stressed than Karen had ever seen her. Madani had recovered quickly from the bullet that had scraped against her head when Billy had shot her and had been back at work as soon as she was able. It was clear that she did not want to rest until everyone who had been involved with Operation Cerberus was put behind bars. Billy’s escape had been a major setback. Karen could see it in the dark circles under Madani’s eyes. 

“Karen, there isn’t much I can say to you at this point in the investigation,” Madani said getting up and pacing in front of her, “I wanted to see you because I wanted to ask you if you’ve heard from a certain someone we both know.” Madani stopped pacing and turned to face Karen. 

“I have not,” Karen lied, putting her notepad away. She could see she was not going to get much out of Madani today.

Madani looked disappointed, “Well, if you hear anything…”

Karen shrugged her shoulders, “ _If_ I hear anything…”

They stared at each other.


	26. Stop #2

Frank jogged up the steps to the front door of Micro’s two story house and rang the doorbell. He could see Sarah’s red minivan parked in the driveway. It was early afternoon on a Saturday. He expected the whole family would be home.

The door swung open. “Hey Frank, come on in,” Sarah said giving him a quick hug. “I’m guessing you’re here because of the news,” she said after the door was shut behind them.

“Hey, Sarah. That’s exactly why I’m here. Is L- David home?”

“Yeah, he’s in the garage,” Sarah pointed to the back door. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking his coat off and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Mom, who’s at the door?” Leo’s voice called from upstairs.

“It’s Pete! Come say hi,” Sarah called, shrugging her shoulders at Frank.

Leo came barrelling down the stairs and flung her arms around Frank. She stepped back shyly, “Hi Pete!”

Frank laughed, “Hey, how you doin’, Leo?”

Zach came down the stairs and held his fist out to Frank. Frank fist bumped him, “Zach,” he said.

“Pete.”

They all stood in silence looking at each other. Frank could feel a tension in the air. He had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at them all. Zach and Leo reminded him a lot of his own kids. What they could’ve been like had they gotten the chance to grow up. How could he ask Micro for help? How could he take him away from his family?

Just then Micro appeared at the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“Frank. Glad you came,” he said.

“Lierberman,” Frank said.

“I know why you’re here, and I am in. That guy held my family hostage,” Micro said putting his hands on his kid’s shoulders.

“You all need to leave town,” Frank said, deciding he wouldn’t ask Micro for help after all. Zach looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, my family is going out of town alright. We made arrangements as soon as we heard,” Micro said.

“We’re going to California to stay with my parents,” Sarah explained. 

Leo looked at Frank sadly and Zach looked down at his shoes.

“What about you, Lierberman?” Frank asked turning to Micro.

“You’re going to need my help, Frank, and you know it,” Micro said.

“L-”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. My family will be safe in California far away from this mess,” Micro said crossing his arms stubbornly. He looked at Frank challenging him to fight him on this. Frank could see Micro’s mind was made up.

Frank looked at Sarah who had tears in her eyes. She shook her head, “Don’t worry, Pete. We’ve all talked about it and feel it’s the best choice.”

At this Zach ran up the stairs in a huff. Leo looked after him then looked at Frank, “You’ll look after my dad, right Pete?” She said, her voice choking with emotion.

Frank got down on one knee to be at Leo’s eye level, “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said. Leo wiped away at her tears and Frank gave her a hug.

Sarah let out a little sob and David put his arm around her.

“Zach, hasn’t really come around to the idea yet…” Micro said looking up at the second floor landing.

Frank let go of Leo and stood up, “Let me talk to him,” he said.

Micro nodded and looked at him as if to say “good luck”. Frank took the stairs two steps at a time. He glanced back down at Micro and his family who were all embracing each other. _This is just another reason I should’ve killed Billy when I had the chance._

He turned to his right and guessed Zach was in the only room with a closed door. There was a hand written sign taped to the door that read “Keep Out”. 

Frank knocked lightly.

“Go away,” Zach said. Frank could hear the tears in his voice.

“Zach, it’s me,” he said.

There was silence on the other side.

“I’m coming in,” Frank said, turning the doorknob slowly and pushing the door open.

Zach was laying face down on his bed looking at his phone. Frank approached and sat down on the edge of the bed. Zach rapidly cycled through the apps on his phone and ignored him.

Frank looked around the room. There were posters up on the wall: Wu Tang Clan, Notorious B.I.G, and Dr. Dre. There was a desk along the opposite wall piled with school books. Dirty clothes littered the ground next to the laundry basket, and a football Zach liked to toss around with Frank sometimes was leaning against the night stand. There was also a bulletin board hanging over the desk where Zach had pinned up his own drawings. New York City skylines and portraits of his family. For a twelve year old kid he was exceedingly talented.

Zach had warmed up to Frank in the last few weeks. Especially after he had realized that Frank had been on their side all along and hadn’t been trying to replace Micro. Frank could see a lot of himself in Zach. A strong desire to protect his family and a fierce independence. He was also incredibly headstrong. That he had definitely inherited from his father.

“Zach, I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye…” Frank began.

Zach rolled his eyes and put his phone on the night table. He sat up next to Frank and looked at him.

“My dad isn’t like you, Pete. He’s a computer nerd,” he said. His eyes were rimmed red and there were dry tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You’re underestimating him, Zach,” Frank said, shaking his head, “Did you know that when I met your dad, he managed to knock me out and tie me to a chair?”

Zach looked at Frank and raised his eyebrows, “No way.”

“Yeah, he outsmarted me. He used his intelligence to get the upper hand. Your dad is one of the smartest people I have ever met. He can definitely take care of himself,” Frank said.

Zach looked out the window imagining his dad getting the best of Frank. Frank could visibly see Zach swelling with pride.

“Your dad was vital last time I worked with him. I really don’t think I could’ve done it without him.”

Zach was smiling now. 

“If at any point I think it’s too dangerous for your dad, I’ll put him on the next plane to California,” he added.

Zach shook his head, “My dad would never agree to that. Not before that guy is arrested again.”

Frank sighed, “Yeah, he wouldn’t.”

Zach let out a little laugh at this and Frank grinned. 

They walked back down the stairs together where Micro and the rest of his family were still standing talking quietly. Zach immediately walked over to Micro and hugged him. Micro looked at Frank in surprise. Frank shrugged.

“So when are you guys leaving?” Frank asked.

“Tomorrow,” Sarah said.

Frank nodded, “Good.”

“Pete, do you want to stay for a while? We have some leftovers from lunch if you’d like to eat,” Sarah asked him. Both Leo and Zach looked at Frank eagerly. 

Frank glanced at his watch. He had about an hour to spare. “Sure. I’ve got some time,” he said. 

“Can I have some too, mom?” Zach asked Sarah following her into the kitchen. Micro followed behind too and Frank was about to join them when Leo tugged on his arm, “Pete, I have something for you,” she said. 

She led him up the stairs to her room which was opposite of Zach’s. The layout of the two bedrooms were similar. A twin bed along one wall and a desk along the other. Leo’s room was mostly neat, except for her desk, which looked a lot like something you would find in Micro’s garage. It was covered with electronics: capacitors, copper wire, a soldering iron, sandpaper, and microchips among other things. She also had a second desk with a laptop hooked up to a larger computer monitor. Science fair trophies lined the top shelf of the bookshelf next to the window. 

Leo opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand and took out a black plastic box about the size of an old telephone receiver. It had a switch on one side with the words “Off” and “On” written on it with a sharpie. The switch was currently pointing to “Off”. 

“It’s an electromagnetic pulse generator,” she said. She opened up the back and showed him the interior. 

Frank looked at it impressed, “You made this?”

Leo nodded and closed the box again. She handed it to Frank. “I don’t know if you’ll need it or not but it works. You can use it to shut off small electronic devices and it has a range of about five feet. I tested it at school,” she said blushing a little.

“You’re a lot like your dad, you know that?” Frank said clapping his hand on her shoulder.

Leo blushed deeply.

“Thank you. I’m sure this will come handy,” he added.

Leo beamed with pride. 

“Pete! Food’s ready. Leo, there’s enough if you want some too,” Sarah called from downstairs.

Leo ran down the stairs and Frank followed behind her, examining the EMP generator. He stopped by the coat rack and placed it in the pocket of his coat. He had a feeling Sarah and Micro didn’t know about it. 

In the dining room Sarah had laid out a plate for him: roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a glass of water. Frank’s stomach growled at the sight and he sat down gratefully.

“Thanks Sarah,” he said, picking up his fork.

Sarah and Micro joined Frank at the table with mugs of coffee. Zach and Leo ate leftovers and talked to Frank about school. Leo asked him if he had finished reading “Of Mice and Men”. He promised they’d be able to talk about it when they came back from California.

Frank finished up his food and watched Micro interacting with his family. Watching them strengthened his resolve to find Billy. He felt personally responsible for keeping Micro and his family safe.

After lunch Frank gave Sarah and the kids one final hug before leaving. He waved goodbye as he walked away towards the bus stop. He only had one more person to go see.


	27. Hope

Karen and Madani sat on the bench in the hospital courtyard in silence. Both wanting answers from the other. Both refusing to cooperate.

“Karen,” Madani said, sighing heavily, “You are likely in danger now that Russo has escaped. He will figure out that Frank has an affection for you-”

Karen looked at Madani in disbelief.

Madani raised an eyebrow, “You and I both know that you and Frank share some kind of connection, affectionate or not, it exists and that puts you in a lot of danger.”

Karen looked down at her hands. She hadn’t even considered that Russo would come after her until then. She hated to admit that Madani was probably right.

“We can work with Frank again. It increases the likelihood that we find Russo and we can protect Frank too,” Madani insisted.

“Frank is going to want to kill Russo this time. He’s not going to want to hand him over to the justice system. Not after this fiasco,” Karen said, waving her hand to indicate the hospital.

Madani sighed. She took a business card from her pocket, “If you find yourself in danger, if you suspect anything, if you think Frank is in danger or if you somehow convince Frank that we can help him, please don’t hesitate to call me,” she said handing Karen her card.

Karen felt a sense of deja vu. Madani had come to her before looking for Frank. She probably already had her card somewhere in her apartment. She realized now that she had somehow become a link for others to contact Frank. She had become part of his inner circle. One of the few people he kept close. One of the few he actually cared about. It made her feel good, like she was part of an exclusive club, but she was beginning to understand the dangerous position that put her in.

Karen took Madani’s card, “I want to see Russo back in custody just as much as you do. Believe me, I don’t want to see Frank murder anyone again,” she said, thinking back on the time she had met Frank at a diner and he had killed two people right in front of her. “I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him to hand Russo over, though.”

“You’d be surprised,” Madani said, giving her a knowing look. She got up, “I should head back in.”

“Wait,” Karen said. Madani sat back down.

“I will try to talk to him. I’ll try to talk him out of killing him and into working with you,” Karen said. 

Madani smiled broadly.

“But…”

Madani’s smile faded.

“Could you please relay some information about Russo’s escape? Anything at all?” Karen said, taking her notepad out of her purse.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Madani said, getting up again.

Karen nodded, “Worth a shot.”

Madani left the courtyard and Karen was alone again. She had a little bit of time before she needed to go up and interview one of the nurses who had been on duty last night. She examined Madani’s card. 

She imagined telling Frank about what Madani had said. Convincing him somehow to work with them and capture Russo instead of killing him. Letting the justice system take care of it.

Even as she thought this she knew it would never work. Not after the system had failed so spectacularly. Besides, she had had this talk with him before. Multiple times even. She felt a small glimmer of hope in spite of these glaring facts.

_You’d be surprised_. Madani’s words echoed in her mind. She couldn’t give up on Frank. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Determined now, she tucked the card into her purse and entered the hospital.


	28. The Waiting Game

Frank sat on the subway watching stations zoom by. He was on the fast train heading straight to Hell’s Kitchen. He’d be getting off at 42nd street and from there he only needed to walk a few blocks to get to the New York Bulletin. 

The train was packed. On left side a group of tourists were taking pictures of each other, posing ridiculously and then laughing at the results. On his right, other native New Yorkers were sitting or standing staring into space or at their phones. Thankfully, there were no subway performers today.

Frank sat between them, brooding, imagining what Billy could be up to now that he was out and how he had managed to escape. He figured Billy probably wasn’t in the best shape to be doing any of the heavy lifting, Frank had seen to that when he had beat him to a pulp. Which meant Billy must have at least one accomplice. Perhaps a guy who had worked at ANVIL? Perhaps it was many guys? 

Most of the people exited the subway at 42nd street and Frank followed behind them. The station was loud with the sounds of footsteps and chatter. There was a band playing classical rock and a few feet beyond a young college aged woman playing the violin. There was an area between the two performers where the music collided and clashed horribly with each other. 

Frank walked by not paying any attention. He was lost in thought thinking about Micro and his family. 

“You sure you want to do this?” He had asked Micro after he had finished eating lunch and Sarah and the kids had gone into the kitchen to clean up.

“Yes,” Micro had hissed.

Frank had leaned in, keeping his voice just above a whisper and looking Micro directly in the eye, “Think about what you could be giving up. Think about your family. Are you sure you want to put them through this again?”

“My family will be safe in California,” Micro had insisted, “I need to make sure-”

“Why don’t you just go with them? Leave the hunting to me,” Frank had cut him off.

“You need me, Frank,” Micro had said, sitting up and planting his fists on the table, “Think about last time. I did all the grunt work. I made sure areas were secure for you to move around in, I had all the surveillance cameras rigged, I was the one keeping an eye out for you with my drone when you were in the woods, I went out and got Curtis to patch you up, I was your driver, your hacker, I was basically your safety net. Where would you be without me, huh? Dead. That’s where.”

Frank and Micro had then stared at each other for several minutes.

“I’m sure. Don’t ask me again,” Micro had said, before getting up and joining his family in the kitchen.

Frank could understand Micro’s determination and respected his right to protect his family.  
It made Frank feel slightly better to know that Micro would mostly be working behind the scenes. Hacking into mainframes, watching surveillance cameras and guiding Frank through buildings. 

Frank jogged up the stairs and exited the station into the street. He walked towards the New York Bulletin and stopped when he was within viewing distance of it. It wasn’t a very big building, maybe four stories tall, and made of brown brick. 

There was no one around besides a woman and a dog laying on a blanket next to the building. He decided he would wait in the coffee shop across the street since he had forgotten to bring a blanket with him and couldn’t pretend to be panhandling this time. When she came out he’d casually walk up next to her and start talking. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too startled. 

He entered the coffee shop and ordered a cup of black coffee. He then took a seat at a table with a clear view of the newspaper office. Now all he had to do was wait.


	29. Paranoia

Back at her office, Karen finished up writing her report. She had found out some important pieces of information from the nurse she had interviewed that afternoon. Apparently, the patient emergency that had distracted the whole unit had been medically induced. Which meant someone had gone in there and injected the patient with something on purpose. Of the nurses who had seen the male nurse who had called the code blue, none of them had recognized him. She had also told Karen a little bit about Billy’s demeanor in the time before his escape. According to the nurse, Billy wouldn’t say much besides “please” and “thank you” and most of the other nurses felt sorry for him because it appeared he was in constant pain. Karen wondered how they had even managed to move him.

Karen printed out her finished report and took it to Ellison in his office. Karen stood wringing her hands as he read. He read it over quickly. “Great work. Excellent,” he muttered.

When he was done he handed it back to her, “Take this to printing. It’ll be in the paper tomorrow.”

Karen nodded and turned to leave.

“Karen, wait,” Ellison said.

Karen turned back. Ellison stood up from his desk and approached her, “After this I want you to go straight home. I mean it. You look like you haven’t really slept...ever. I want you to go home and get a full night’s sleep, you got me?”

She could see there would be no arguing with Ellison. She smiled and glanced at the clock behind him. It was nearly five in the afternoon. She nodded, “I will.”

“If there are any more events tonight I’ll need you to come back in tomorrow, but we’ll determine that in the morning. For now just assume you have the day off.”

Karen nodded and turned to leave.

“I’m going to stay here until you’ve left this time,” he added, before she left his office.

“Okay,” Karen said, appreciating that Ellison cared about her wellbeing. “I’ll only be another hour.”

After Karen had taken her article to printing, she returned to her desk and got a stack of paperwork ready to take home. She wanted to do some more research on hospital security. She had found a few older articles about patients walking out of hospitals without anyone noticing and even an article about a newborn baby being kidnapped by someone dressed as a nurse. She wanted to get a little more insight on how these things managed to happen.

She had also gathered some more information about Russo’s past. She was thinking about writing a profile on him. 

At six o’clock Ellison came to her door. He had his coat on and his briefcase with him, “You ready, Karen?”

“Yeah, just a second,” Karen said hastily stuffing papers into her bag and grabbing her purse. 

They left the building together and parted ways. Ellison had offered her a ride but she refused this time saying the walk helped relax her.

She walked by the woman and her dog laying on a blanket on the street. They were there nearly every day. She took a few coins out of her coat pocket and placed them in the woman’s hat, which the woman had laid out next to her. The woman appeared to be asleep. The dog looked at Karen and raised its head. 

The sun had already gone down an hour ago and it was beginning to get chilly. As she waited at an intersection she blew on her hands and stuffed them in her coat pockets. At the light change she crossed the street and walked by the coffee shop.

Her mind whirled with the events of the day. Russo had escaped right under everyone’s noses. There hadn’t even been any confrontations or gunshots. No one had died. It’s like he had just disappeared. If it weren’t for the security footage of the unknown police officer they’d barely have any information about it at all.

Karen stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. A man walked up beside her and stopped. Karen didn’t notice. She was wondering what Frank thought about Billy’s escape.

“Hey Karen,” Frank said from right next to her.

Karen turned her head in surprise, “Frank? What are you doing here?” Frank had on the usual all black outfit and beanie but wore a distracted expression on his face and seemed to be trying to look in every direction at once.

“We need to talk,” Frank said, his eyes briefly glancing at hers and then darting around again. 

Karen nodded, “Yeah, we do. Do you want to go back to my place?” The light changed and they began walking across the street.

“It’s too dangerous-”

“And you think it’s safer out here?” She asked him. 

“People could be watching us,” he said, after they had crossed the street, “I don’t want them to see where you live.”

“Frank, if they wanted to know where I lived, they’d know. It wouldn’t be hard to find out even if they weren’t watching us,” Karen said, glancing around. All this talk about being watched was beginning to make her nervous.

“Fine. Your place,” Frank said.

They continued the rest of the walk in silence. Both studying the people around them. Was that just a group of regular teenagers or were they informants? The man sitting in his car, had she seen him before? Had he been sitting there this morning too?

It was like she was viewing everyone through a new filter that made them all appear suspicious. A woman slamming her car door made her jump and Frank put his hand on her shoulder, “Shh,” he said, “It’s just some lady.”

They both tried to appear casual as they quickened their pace.


	30. Her

Frank’s mind was wrestling with the idea of going to her apartment. He was afraid… afraid that anything he did would result in Billy going after her. _What if he’s watching us right now somehow?_

He glanced at her. She had a black and gray scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, her hair flowing out over it. She had on a gray coat and black boots and her hands were in her coat pockets. Her blue eyes stood out starkly against the gray and black of her clothing. At the next intersection she took out her hand and pressed the push-to-walk button. Her hand was bare and trembling.

Frank immediately took off his gloves, “Here,” he said, handing them to her.

Karen took them from him, “These are a little big,” she said.

“Just wear them,” Frank said.

Karen put them on, “Thanks,” she said softly.

They made it to her apartment and Karen unlocked the doors. She kicked her shoes off and threw her coat and scarf on the couch. She made her way to the kitchen and began making tea right away.

Frank took off his boots and hung up his coat. He walked over to her window and peeked out of the curtains. Everything appeared to be normal as far as he could tell. He looked across the street and noticed a gray minivan with a man sitting in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t remember if he had seen it before. It was the only car on the street with a person in it. He filed this information away in his memory and then walked over to the couch. 

Karen set two cups of tea on the coffee table, and sat down on the couch. Frank stood across from her and crossed his arms.

“So…” Karen said, picking up her mug. Frank watched her purse her lips and blow on her tea to cool it, holding the mug delicately in her hands. His need to protect her was suddenly stronger than ever.

“Karen, you need to leave town,” Frank said, knowing how she would respond.

“You know I can’t do that,” she said, setting her mug back down on the table. 

“It’s not safe here, Karen. He’s going to go after me and he’ll start with the people I care about,” Frank said with a new desperation in his voice.

Karen shook her head stubbornly, “I’ll take extra precautions. I’ll drive to work, I’ll never go out alone after dark, I’ll-”

“Extra precautions? That’s not good enough,” Frank said, his voice rising. His anger was beginning to boil over. Visions of Karen being attacked flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t let that happen to her. He wouldn’t.

“Karen, please,” he said, his voice softer. He was begging now. He sat next to her on the couch and took her hand. It was soft and warm and he didn’t want to let go. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Karen looked down at their hands and said nothing. Frank thought she looked nervous. Maybe a little afraid.

“I’m going to go after him,” Frank said, trying to reassure her, “I’m going to go after that son of a bitch and I’m going to end it this time,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

She didn’t look in the least bit surprised to hear him say that.

“I can’t just leave. I have to work. I’m the one who writes all the articles on Russo. I need to inform the public-” she said finally.

Frank let go of her hand and stood up, “That’s not what’s important right now,” he said, running his hand through his hair, “Look, we talked about this before. I can’t keep you safe and go looking for him. I-”

“And I told you before, you don’t need to keep me safe,” Karen interrupted him, getting up from the couch and crossing her arms.

“Yeah? And look what happened. Lewis took you hostage!” Frank nearly yelled.

Karen flinched and looked away. Frank instantly regretted raising his voice.

They stood there in silence for a few minutes. Frank glowering and Karen deep in thought.

“Where would I even go? And for how long?” Karen finally asked him, her voice sounding exasperated. She sat back down on the couch. Her tea forgotten on the table.

“Until I get Billy,” Frank said, clenching his fists.

“And what if you don’t?”

Frank’s jaw clenched, “I will-”

Karen sighed loudly and Frank stopped talking.

“Frank, could you sit down for a second,” she said.

Frank reluctantly sat down next to her. He wanted to pace around. He was beginning to feel like a caged animal. He wanted to go out and start hunting Billy.

“I talked to Madani. She’s looking for you.”

“Yeah? What does she want? Help finding Billy?” Frank scoffed, shaking his head. There was no way he was going to work with her again.

“Yes, that’s exactly what she wants,” Karen admitted, crossing her arms.

“Well, she can forget it. I did that once and handed him right over and what happened? They let him slip right through their fingers,” he could feel his anger rising again, “and now he’s out and he’s going to go after you and-”

“Frank, please. Can we just talk about it for a second,” Karen said, putting her hand on his arm trying to placate him. Her touch made him feel a little calmer.

“Karen, I’m not doing this again,” he said more softly.

“Just listen to me,” Karen said sharply. Frank looked at her in surprise. “Hear me out and when I’m done you can do whatever you want.”

Frank nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Karen said, taking a deep breath.

She took a sip of her tea, which had gone lukewarm, before she began. Frank watched her patiently. Her hand shook a little as she put the mug back down on the table and then she cleared her throat.

“If you work together you have a better chance of finding him,” she began.

Frank rolled his eyes. _This again_.

“It will be safer for everyone,” she said, louder this time, “For you, for _me_ , for everyone you care about. Say you go after Russo and he kills you? Do you think he’s going to stop there? He might still go after me and then I don’t stand a chance.”

Frank’s hands were balled into fists, his knuckles white, “I’ll kill him before he kills me.”

Karen reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her so that he was looking right into her eyes, “But what if you don’t?” she said softly.

Frank looked at her. Her eyes were so blue they reminded him of clear, open summer skies or a wide, serene ocean. The color of peace and tranquility. He felt like he could dive right into them and wash his anger away. Blue had always been his favorite color after all…

Out of impulse he took her hand and kissed it gently. 

“I can’t,” he said. Karen’s face fell and a small part of him felt guilty.“The only thing I care about is that you and the people I care about are safe,” he added.

Karen sat back looking defeated. Frank got up and began to pace.

“I can try to take time off from work,” Karen said unhappily, “My boss has been hounding me to take a vacation anyway.”

Relief washed over him and he stopped pacing.

“I’ll need at least a week to wrap things up at work though,” she continued, “And I can probably only be away for two weeks. It kind of depends on my boss.”

Frank crossed his arms and began pacing again, “We can work with that. You’re going to need to lay low until you leave. I’ll be patrolling the streets every night starting tonight. I can walk with you to work in the mornings, and walk you home at night until you leave town. If you feel like anything is off just put the flowers on the window sill and I’ll call you,” he said, stopping to look at her.

She nodded.

He took out a set of his keys from his front pocket, “These are yours,” he said, putting them on the coffee table.

Karen laughed. He felt himself beginning to blush.

“You’re going to be escorting me to and from work and you’re giving me back my spare keys?” She asked him incredulously.

Frank shrugged, “Well, I didn’t want to assume… They’re your keys and I said I would return them,” he stammered. 

“Frank, it’s okay. You can keep my keys. I know it will make you feel better to have them,” she said. 

She was right. It would make him feel better. Even though he didn’t really need them to get into her apartment but it would make things a little faster and less messy. 

He took the keys back and put them in his pocket.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

“I know.”

Frank stood there in front of her wondering when their relationship had become so vulnerable. One minute he’s meeting her as one of her clients, and the next she is one of the most important people in his life. 

“Well, I should be going,” Frank said lamely. His legs feeling heavy as he walked over to the coat closet.

Karen got up and followed him, watching him put on his coat and boots.“Don’t forget these,” she said, holding out his gloves to him.

“Thanks, Karen,” he said. He tried to take them from her hands but she wouldn’t let go. He looked at her face and saw tears welling up in her eyes. “Karen…”

He enveloped her in his arms and she broke against him, sobbing quietly. “Shh…” he said, stroking her hair with his hand. They remained that way for a long time, neither of them wanting to let go. For a moment Frank had the crazy idea to run away with her. Leave everything and everyone behind and just hide together. But the thought left as quickly as it came. Dismissed as being too ludicrous. 

After he left, Karen stood and stared at the door long after he had shut it and locked it behind him, hoping it would all be over soon.


	31. Mirror

Billy woke up in a daze. Bright fluorescent lights hung overhead blinding him. He blinked hard, trying to focus. He couldn’t hear the usual hospital sounds, continuous beeping and voices, and no one had bothered him in hours. Usually, someone came into his room every hour to poke or prod at him with needles and blood pressure cuffs. 

His vision came into focus and then he remembered Jeremy’s visit. He looked around. He was in a small room with no windows. Next to the bed there was a similar pump to the one at the hospital, administering pain medication at regular intervals. Across from him there was a sink and a door which he assumed led to a bathroom. There was a work table next to the bed, and a cabinet along the wall. 

“You’re awake,” a voice said coming from the far corner. Billy turned his head to look. It was Jeremy.

“How long have I been out?” He asked, his voice croaking.

Jeremy checked the wall clock behind him, “About 18 hours, sir,” he said.

Billy raised his eyebrows noticing he didn’t immediately flinch in pain. 

“Did everything go as planned?”

Jeremy nodded, “The plan went off without a hitch,” he said.

“So we are at my warehouse then?” Billy asked, looking around again.

Jeremy nodded.

Billy smiled. His face felt hard as though he had on one of his clay face masks and it was time to wash it off. “Good. Where are the others?”

“Gutierrez and Chang are on duty tonight for the medical team. I’ve been here every day and Cooper and Brown are on security duty. Everyone else is off,” Jeremy said, approaching the bed.

“Good work,” Billy said. He grabbed a remote next to him and raised the head of the bed. Normally, this would cause him considerable agony but now he felt only a dull ache in his torso.

“Have they upped my pain medication dosage?” He asked Jeremy.

“Yes, sir.”

Billy looked down at his body. He was wearing a hospital gown. The bruises on his arm were yellowing and he still had on a cast on his right arm. He found he was breathing easier and he could feel that they had removed the bandages from his face.

“Tell me, Jeremy, what does our medical team have to say about my condition?”

“You had two small fractures on your lower ribs which have shown remarkable improvement. They want you to start breathing exercises to strengthen the area, and think you will be fully healed in about two weeks. They wanted to wait until you woke up to remove the cast on your arm. We can schedule that for tomorrow. We’ll need an x-ray to see how it has healed. The wounds on your face have all closed up and you no longer need bandages, though you may still feel sensitivity in that area. They want you to start physical therapy right away to get you back on your feet,” Jeremy said. 

Billy listened attentively. With the increase in the pain medication dosage, he could finally hear himself think. Before his mind had only been focused on one thing: his next dose. Now, he almost felt like he could get up and start walking. This was excellent progress. 

He brought his hand up to his face and touched his skin there for the first time since Frank had beat the shit out of him. He felt small irregular ridges where the doctors had sutured his face back together. They felt like thin caterpillars, rough to the touch. Billy let out a small gasp when he felt how many there were. They were everywhere. All over his face. 

“Bring me a mirror,” he ordered.

Jeremy looked at him uneasily, “Sir, maybe if-”

“Bring. Me. A. Mirror,” Billy repeated slowly, menacingly.

Jeremy grabbed a small hand mirror from on top of the cabinet and handed it to Billy. Billy took a deep breath, bracing himself, and then held it up to his face.

What he saw shocked him to his core. The person staring back at him was a stranger. A monster. _This can’t be me. It can’t be_.

They had shaved off all of his hair, including his eyebrows, during the surgery and it was only now slowly growing back in. His eyebrows were sparse and thin and where he once had flowing locks that he took pride in, he now just had an uneven cropped haircut. There were lines crawling all over his face, dividing it up into irregular sections. As though his face had been a jigsaw puzzle, and his skin the puzzle pieces. The suture lines were red and purple and gave his face a horrible uneven hue. It looked like he had lost too much eyelid skin around his left eye making it look as though it were bulging. He had lost his once perfectly symmetrical face. He had lost his good looks that had given him a leg up and gotten him far in life. _I’m fucking hideous now_.

Billy lowered the mirror in horror. Jeremy stood next to the bed looking at him. Billy felt suddenly angry. _Was he looking at his ugly face?_

“Stop staring at me,” Billy shouted.

Jeremy looked down at his feet. 

“What about Castle? Have you been keeping tabs on him?” Billy growled, gripping the mirror’s handle tightly in his left hand.

“Yes. Since the beginning. He was hard to track down at first because he has gotten a new identity and he’s been laying low,” Jeremy answered, still not looking at Billy.

Now it bothered Billy that Jeremy was avoiding his eyes. _Am I that horrible to look at?_

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he hissed.

Jeremy looked immediately at Billy.

“What have you found out?” Billy asked him.

“Well, we tracked him down via Hoyle’s PTSD meetings. One of our men, Jackson, attended a meeting to see if Castle would be there and he was. He goes by the name Pete Castiglione. We started tracking him after that. There were many times where we were sure he had seen us but he seemed to always be a little distracted. He did nothing of interest for several weeks. He stuck to a routine. We know where he lives, where he likes to eat, and what routes he likes to take to get around. Then a couple of days ago we had a breakthrough,” Jeremy said. There was an excitement in his voice now.

“After attending another PTSD meeting, instead of going straight home, he and Hoyle went out. They stopped at a sandwich shop and afterwards they went to a bar. Only a few minutes after they entered the bar, Castle punched a man who had been talking to a blonde woman. Then he and Hoyle ran out of there. Police were called-”

“A blonde woman?” Billy asked, searching his memory.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, did you find anything out about her?”

“Uh… well, Jackson said he left the bar to follow Castle but he lost-”

“Useless,” Billy interjected, irritated. Jeremy fell silent.

He had an inkling he knew who it was. The same blonde woman who had interviewed Senator Ori. The one that that fuckup Lewis had held hostage. She had also worked for Castle’s lawyers. Yes, it had to be her. Billy knew Castle didn’t have many people in his life these days. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she kept popping up everywhere. Not with Frank Castle.

Billy strained to remember her name. _Katie? Cathrine? Cara?_

“Jeremy, I want you to find out who that blonde woman is. She is the reporter who interviewed Senator Ori. You remember that job, right?”

Jeremy nodded.

“She was also working for the lawyers who defended Frank Castle during his trial last year. Find out everything you can about her. Workplace, address, habits… everything. And do this immediately. Castle’ll be trying to get her out of town as we speak,” Billy sat up straighter, the mirror still in his lap, “When you find out where she lives, bug her place. I need to know immediately if you find out she is leaving town.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I would like to hold a meeting tomorrow with all of our members in the conference room. Can you take care of that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. You will be rewarded for your efforts,” Billy said, “You are dismissed. I’d like some time alone.”

Jeremy nodded and took his leave. 

Gears were turning inside of Billy’s head. His men had been tracking Castle for weeks and Castle hadn’t even noticed. There was no other explanation other than Castle must’ve let his guard down after Billy was put in the hospital. _Good, good. This is good. We can strike fast, out of nowhere. Kidnap the girl, use her as bait. Lure Castle into a trap. Kill him and the girl._ Billy was grinning now like a deranged psychopath.

Billy looked down at his broken body and the mirror he was still gripping in his hand. He held the mirror up to his face. A stranger looked back at him. A skinny, repulsive stranger. Thoughts flurried in his mind. Maybe he could get plastic surgery and look human again. Maybe the scars would fade with time. Maybe it’s not _that_ bad. Even as he had these thoughts he knew he was wrong. This was his face now. There was no going back.

In a fit of rage he threw the mirror across the room. It shattered into a million pieces that scattered across the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the latest update. I'm currently traveling and visiting family so I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done in the next week. I'll try my best though! :)


	32. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from my vacation trip! Hope to post regularly again now :)

It was a cold, windy night. Horrible conditions to be out prowling the streets of Manhattan. Frank was dressed all in black to blend in with the shadows. To the untrained eye, the city appeared to be empty and asleep. The average layman wouldn’t notice the tall, muscular, bearded man watching them from a distance, hidden from view.

So far Frank had only seen one shady interaction in an alleyway. From a rooftop he had watched a man dressed in a business suit walk through the alley, casually put down his briefcase next to a dumpster, and walk away. A few minutes later another person had driven up in a black sedan and had grabbed the briefcase before speeding off. Probably a drug deal. Something Frank didn’t have the time for.

He had been at it for hours. Now he was crouching on a rooftop with a pair of binoculars, scanning the street that he would later explore on foot, trying not to shiver too much. For what felt like the hundredth time that night his thoughts turned to the embrace he and Karen had shared just before he had left her apartment. The floral citrusy scent on her, the feel of her soft hair against his cheek and hand, the warmth of her body pressed against his… he longed to recreate that warmth as he squatted out there in the chill.

He shook his head vigorously as if it would help dispel the image from his mind. But in those brief moments, when he let his mind wander even if just for half a second, his thoughts immediately turned back to Karen.

Frank shook his head again and slapped his cheeks with his hand. _Focus_. 

He had never had so much trouble focusing before. In fact, in the marines, he had been praised for his keen ability to focus and remain calm in emergency situations. 

He peered through his binoculars, scanning the street below. He was on top of a rooftop in the westmost part of Hell’s Kitchen. He could see the Hudson River from where he was crouching. There was no one out on the streets below and no one on the water either. 

He lowered his binoculars and sighed. The first place he had gone to scout had been ANVIL’s old headquarters. He knew Billy wouldn’t be dumb enough to hole up there anyway but he hoped they might have left some clues. The building had been completely abandoned. All of their old training equipment removed save for a few discarded ripped punching bags.

He wondered if he’d be able to get a list of all of ANVIL’s old employees. He knew he could from Madani but he’d be damned if he worked with her again. He decided he’d ask Karen about it in the morning when he was done patrolling.

Putting his binoculars away, he got up and made his way to the edge of the rooftop, to the fire escape he had used to climb up. A flash of movement in his periphery made him immediately drop down to the ground. It had come from the building to the right of him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he quickly army crawled towards the edge. Once there, he got into a low squat, and peered over the brick rooftop barrier.

The other rooftop was slightly lower than the one Frank was on so he saw the other person immediately, just before they dropped down to the ground. Frank got up and ran towards a section of the rooftop barrier that fell away, giving him room for a running start. He glanced at the other building, reassuring himself that the distance was short enough, then he sprinted towards the edge and jumped.

He landed hard, in a crouched position. The person he had seen had sprinted towards the other side of the building, and now leaped over the edge. Frank growled and ran as fast as he could towards where the person had disappeared from view. He reached the edge and looked over it. It was the building’s fire escape, and the person was bounding down the steps, taking three at a time. Frank’s eyes narrowed and he leaped over the edge onto the fire exit. He flew down the steps now seeing that he was pursuing a short and stocky man dressed all in black. 

The man reached the street and began to run North. Frank was still two stories up, he stopped and looked down at the street. There was a dumpster next to the fire exit. He hopped over the railing and landed in a roll on top of it.

He rolled off the dumpster and ran after the man, who had cut a right at the end of the block. Frank knew he had him. He had been running everyday for weeks now. He knew the streets of Hell’s Kitchen like the back of his hand. He grinned as he pumped his arms harder and turned the corner.

The man had only made it halfway down the next block. Frank roared as he broke into a sprint, closing the distance in a few strides and then tackling the man to the ground. They rolled and wrestled with each other. The man beating his fists into Frank’s face and chest before Frank came out on top and placed him in a headlock, lowering him to his knees. 

“Who do you work for?” He bellowed into the man’s ear.

The man shook his head defiantly.

Frank released him and whipped him around. He punched him hard in the face. The man fell over. Frank dragged him into an alley and threw him against the wall.

“Who do you work for?” He repeated, this time in a low and menacing voice.

The man turned his face and spat, “I’m...not…tellin’...you,” he said, his mouth full of blood. He slowly stood up.

Frank grunted and punched him again, the man’s head banging against the wall behind him, letting out a sickening crack. The man fell to his knees looking dazed. His eyes were beginning to swell up and trickles of blood were flowing out of his mouth. 

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Frank lied, “Who are you working for?”

The man looked at him and grinned, his mouth bloody and his lip swollen, “Who do you think?”


	33. Breakfast

Karen woke up on Sunday morning feeling more tired than she had before she had gone to sleep. After Frank had left she had gone to bed and tossed and turned for hours. Wondering where Frank had gone and if he had found anything.

She picked up her phone from the night table next to her bed. She had one message from Ellison.

_Don’t worry about coming in today. Get some rest. See you tomorrow._

Karen sighed with relief. For once she didn’t want to go to work. She needed to begin making plans.

She kicked off the covers and made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stared into the mirror as she waited for the water to get warm. Her hair was a mess, she had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she had been crying. Which she had been, of course, before finally falling asleep in the early morning hours. 

After showering, she put on an old t shirt and some jeans and made her way to her kitchen. She took out the oatmeal that Frank had bought her the other day and put some water on the stove to boil. She stared into space and waited. 

The question of whether to tell Foggy or not about Frank wanting her to leave town had been nagging at her all night. 

“If you ever feel like you are in any kind of trouble please let me know,” Foggy had said to her the night Frank had appeared out of nowhere at Josie’s. These words echoed in her mind.

A light knock on the door made her heart leap in her chest and her hand fly up to her throat. She stared at the door and didn’t move. There was another knock, louder this time and she sprang into action. She padded over to the front door and looked through the peephole, her hand still at her throat. Frank was standing there, beard, beanie, and all. She exhaled, she hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath.

She took the chain off the door and opened it. She gasped upon looking at his face. Frank’s lip was cut and swollen. She glanced at his hands, which were cut up and bloody as well. Frank pushed past her inside. She closed the door behind him and watched as he removed his beanie and shook out his hair. They stared at each other, Karen’s mouth slightly open in shock.

“You got water boiling in there?” Frank said hoarsely, tilting his head towards the kitchen.

“What…?” Karen looked over at the kitchen and remembered the oatmeal, “Oh yeah, yes.” She hurried to the stove, “Do you want some oatmeal?” She called out, adding oats to the water. It felt bizarre to ask him something so ordinary given the circumstances.

“Ahh...I shouldn’t,” Frank said, “I shouldn’t stick around too long.”

Karen lowered the heat on the stove and turned to look at Frank, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked at her and then looked down at his boots, almost sheepishly.

“I was being followed,” he admitted.

‘How...followed? By whom? One of Russo’s guys?” She asked.

Frank nodded.

Karen glanced down at his fists again. He saw her look and put them in his pockets.

“Did you…” Karen trailed off, knowing the answer.

Frank didn’t answer, knowing she knew. They stood there silently. 

“You should…” Frank trailed off and pointed at the pot of oatmeal on the stove.

“Oh, right,” Karen said absentmindedly and returned to the kitchen. She switched off the heat, taking the pot off the stove. The oatmeal had begun to stick to the sides. She took out two bowls and scooped some oatmeal in both. 

“Here,” she said, handing Frank a bowl and spoon before he could refuse.

“Karen, I should-”

“Eat it,” she commanded and took a seat at the dining table with her bowl.

Frank sighed and joined her at the table. They ate in silence. Karen pushed her food around, her stomach in knots. Frank gulped down his oatmeal.

“Coffee?” Karen asked, getting up from the table.

“I really need to get going,” Frank started.

“Frank, you look like hell. At least drink some coffee before you head out,” she said, already taking the coffee out of her cupboard.

Frank was too exhausted to argue. He remained seated at the table, staring at his hands as Karen busied herself in the kitchen.

“Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s through there,” Karen said pointing at her bedroom door.


	34. Stay Safe

Frank got up and went into her bedroom. There were still piles of clothing all over the floor. Her sheets lay in a crumpled heap on her bed. In the bathroom Frank washed his hands and his face. The soap smelling like citrus. It smelled like her.

He dried his hands on the hand towel next to the sink, noticing it matched the bath towel hanging from the shower rack. He glanced into her shower. There was a small tub. Bottles of hair products and body gels littered the sides of it. There was a small window with frosted glass that she had left slightly open. She had left a purple razor on the sill to dry. 

He looked at himself in the mirror imagining Karen using it to apply her makeup before work in the mornings. He had an urge to open the medicine cabinet and see what she had inside. He suddenly wanted to know everything about her. He stopped himself out of respect for her privacy.

He went back into the dining room. Karen sat at the table sipping her coffee. A mug was waiting for him across from her. He sat down and took it gratefully.

“Thank you for breakfast,” he said, taking a sip.

Karen shrugged. Frank knew she was upset. It looked like she had been crying and hadn’t gotten much sleep. He set his mug down.

“Do you have to go to work today?” He asked.

Karen shook her head.

Frank nodded, “Okay, that’s good.”

Karen took another sip of coffee.

“I’m going to meet Lieberman today. He said he’s got something to show me,” he paused but Karen said nothing. “They’ve probably been watching me for a while now. They probably know I’ve been here before. Do you have somewhere you can go? A friend’s? Family member?”

Karen gripped her mug in her hands and stared at it intently. She nodded and looked up at him, “Yeah. I can call someone.”

Frank felt relieved and gulped down the rest of his coffee. He glanced at the time. It was now past nine. He was supposed to meet Micro at his house around noon.

“I need to go now,” he said.

Karen looked at him and nodded. He got up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He took his beanie out of his back pocket and pulled it over his head. 

Karen got up and walked him to her door.

“Well…” he said.

“Well…”

Here they were again. 

“Stay safe,” Frank said glancing at her purse on the entrance table. Karen caught his glance and nodded.

“You too.”


	35. ANVIL United

Billy stared at himself in the full length mirror Jeremy had wheeled into the room. The mirror was angled in such a way that he couldn’t see his face, just his body in a new black Armani suit, tailored for his new skinny shape. Jeremy had seen to it the night before. They had worked on it all night and it was immaculate. Billy smiled to himself as he straightened out the cuffs. A good suit was a great way to inspire confidence. Just as long as he didn’t look at his face.

Getting out of bed had been tougher than he thought it would be. His muscles had atrophied and his legs shook when he stood. They had brought him a walker and he had nearly lost his mind in anger. He had demanded a cane. One that would match his suit. One that would make him look sharp and not frail and elderly. Chang had run out of there as though buying Billy a cane was of the utmost importance. Just the way Billy liked things to be.

“It’s good,” Billy said nodding. He felt he couldn’t stand any longer. “Bring the chair, Jeremy.”

Jeremy brought over a wheelchair and locked it into place behind him. Billy flopped down on it and exhaled. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. That had been more effort than he cared to admit.

Jeremy quickly turned the mirror away from Billy before Billy had a chance to catch a glimpse of his face. He appreciated Jeremy anticipating his thoughts like that. He had to admit, Jeremy was a good assistant. One of the best.

Jeremy’s cell phone rang. 

“Excuse me,” he said to Billy before answering the call, “Yes?”

Billy watched him curiously as he spoke.

“Last night? Okay… yes… right. Bring him back,” he said and promptly hung up. 

Billy waited.

“Castle caught Jackson last night,” Jeremy said. Billy’s face remained expressionless. “Johnson went out looking for him when he didn’t return on time. He found him this morning in an alleyway. Dead.”

Billy nodded slowly, arms resting on the armrests, his fingers tapping against the edge. He had anticipated this. Castle was onto them.

“Make sure he gets a proper burial,” he said to Jeremy who nodded and made a note in his cell phone.

“We looked into the blonde girl,” Jeremy added, putting his phone away. Billy’s ears perked up in interest.

“Her name is Karen Page.”

_Karen. Yes, that was it._

“She is an investigative reporter at the New York Bulletin. She lives about a mile from her office. Castle has been seen entering and leaving her apartment, as recent as two nights ago. She was at the bar with a former coworker of hers, a lawyer, Franklin Nelson.”

Billy chuckled softly, “Good work,” he said, “I want her place bugged as soon as possible.”

Jeremy nodded and took out his cell phone to make a call.

“Put someone outside of her place immediately. I want her followed starting now,” Billy added.

Just then Chang returned with three different canes. A black one with a crystal encrusted handle, a dark brown one with a red leather handle, and a lighter brown cane with a golden handle shaped like an eagle head. He presented them to Billy, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Billy selected the black one. It would go well with his outfit. He stood again and instructed Chang to turn the mirror around, which Chang did, being careful to angle it down. Billy leaned against his cane, transferring some of his weight onto it. It was now much easier to stand and the cane gave his look a new edge. Almost a villainous edge. _Not bad._

“Are they ready for me?” He asked Jeremy, who was no longer on the phone. 

“Yes, everyone is waiting in the conference room.”

“Excellent. Let’s begin then,” Billy said, flopping back down onto the wheelchair. 

Jeremy wheeled him out of his room and into the hallway. It was the first time Billy had been out of a patient room while conscious. He felt waves of excitement in the pit of his stomach. 

From the outside the warehouse they were in looked like any other warehouse in the district. It was disguised as a shipping warehouse, with rows upon rows of large shelves filled with boxes. Most of them containing equipment ANVIL used themselves, like guns and armor. At the back of the warehouse there were a few offices and in one of these offices there was a large, hidden trapdoor.

Billy and his team were underground. Their underground facilities were large enough to house a proper medical section, enough to hold up to five patients, in case any of his ANVIL employees needed treatment. There was a gym, a conference room, a computer room, weapons armory, and a garage containing a few escape vehicles. The garage had a ramp that led up to the warehouse’s ground level parking garage. In fact if one where to enter the parking garage and attempt to go to its lowest level, they would reach the underground garage. The doors that led to the rest of the underground warehouse were always locked and no one suspected there was anything of importance behind them.

Billy had enough money that they could run this entire operation illegally and under the table so long as they didn’t get caught. It never ceased to amaze Billy what money could buy.

Once they were outside the conference room Jeremy stopped and locked the wheelchair. Billy wanted to walk into the room with his new cane. He did not want to show his employees weakness. He needed to show that he was strong and back on his feet. He needed everyone to know that they were right to follow him. 

Billy struggled to his feet, holding up his hand when Jeremy attempted to help him. He leaned on his cane, feeling slightly lightheaded and waited for his vision to return. Then he nodded at Jeremy.

Jeremy opened the door and held it open for Billy. Billy straightened his back and put a small smile on his face. He walked into the room, trying to hide his limp as much as possible.

The room was large and was filled with over 50 ANVIL employees, almost half of what the company used to be. The employees stood up and broke out into applause when he entered, there were even a few hoots and whistles from the back. Billy’s smile broadened. 

He came to a stop in front of them and leaned on his cane, which he positioned directly in front of his body. He looked around the room at all of the smiling faces. He knew Jeremy had likely instructed them all not to react in shock at his appearance. For a moment he forgot about his face. For a moment he felt like his old self again. 

These people admired him, he knew. They were all veterans. Some had seen war, some had not. Some of them had completed their service in its entirety, others had been relieved due to injury. All of them had felt lost upon returning to civilian life. All of them had found purpose at ANVIL. Billy had given them an opportunity. A chance to feel useful again. This had garnered him their respect. 

He held out his hand to quiet down the applause, “Thank you, thank you,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, “You can return to your seats.”

The applause died down and his employees sat back down. 

“I’d like to start out by thanking you all for being here. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today, standing here in front of all of you,” he paused and looked around, making eye contact, gripping his cane firmly in his hands.

“I would like to commend you all for the amazing job you did in getting me out of UMC. That deserves a round of applause,” Billy said, placing his cane under his arms and clapping. The room broke out into applause again and Billy grinned. 

He let the applause go on for a little longer and then held his hands out. 

“I wanted to gather everyone here today because I wanted to talk about ANVIL and our future,” Billy said, placing his cane in front of him again. 

“First, it is important that we all understand that we are all in this together. We each play a very important role here at ANVIL,” he said, pausing, “Now, I’m going to be very candid with you all.”

Billy could see ears perk up as he said this.

 

“It is clear that we have lost a few members since I was hospitalized,” he continued, “If you are here it means that you really want to be here. That you have realized and accepted what ANVIL is and what it is going to become. If this is not true, I’d like you to step out and leave right now.”

No one moved. Billy smiled.

“As you all know by now, I am being accused of serious military crimes. One of our biggest investors was also running an illegal military operation. Their mission was to illegally assassinate terrorists and smuggle heroin into the United States.”

Billy looked around the room. Most faces were expressionless, as though what he was saying was nothing new to them. 

“To be perfectly honest, ANVIL would not have been possible without this investor’s funding. ANVIL likely wouldn’t even exist. We have run missions for this operation before, illegal missions. In a way, we are all criminals here. Knowingly or not. I have come to terms with this fact. If you have not, please leave now.”

Everyone remained seated. 

“I don’t know about you, but ANVIL is my home now. Where would I be without it? Out on the streets, penniless, forgotten by society. The way I found many of you. Starting ANVIL saved me and in turn I tried to help out as many of our fellow veterans as I could. I need to know now that you are with me. Are you willing to follow me and ANVIL in this new direction wherever it may lead?”

“Aye, sir!” A voice boomed from the back.

A chorus of ayes rang out across the room after it and the clapping began again. Billy smiled broadly as he looked across the room. A few people stood up and soon everyone was on their feet clapping and hollering. 

“Alright, settle down,” Billy said loudly, holding up his hand and smiling. The room quieted down once more.

“I am truly grateful for your support. We are all in this together now,” he said, “It is now time I let you in on our next mission.” A few of the employees in the front leaned closer in their seats.

“One of my former friends from the marines has worked with the Department of Homeland Security to get me captured. He is the one responsible for the way I look now. He beat me, then scraped my face against a broken mirror.”

Billy could see looks of pity and some of horror in the faces watching him. 

“His name is Frank Castle, a name you are undoubtedly familiar with. He is our target and he needs to be eliminated. Each and every one of you has a role to play in this mission. I am also open to hearing any ideas or thoughts that you may have. I am setting aside a few hours later today to hear anything you have to say. For now know that we have already begun. We are tracking Castle and gathering information. Now is your chance to step up and contribute.” 

There was a murmur of excitement from the employees.

“This mission does not come without risks,” Billy added, “In fact one of our own was killed by Frank Castle last night while on duty,” he said, his voice grave.

The room fell silent once again.

“Our very own Sam Jackson, who has been tracking Castle since I was captured.”

The crowd stirred in their seats and someone called out a loud, “No!”.

Billy nodded looking down at his feet. After a moment he looked up and looked at the room with a determined expression on his face. Gripping his cane tightly in his hands, a vein visibly pulsing in his left temple, he spoke.

“Jackson’s work has been invaluable to our mission. Rest assured, I will not stop until we catch Frank Castle and end him. Starting with the people he loves.”


	36. Micro's Workshop

Frank could hear the doorbell chiming inside of the house. He stood outside Micro’s front door with his hands in his pockets, glancing around behind him. The coast was clear and he hadn’t been followed from Karen’s apartment. Seems Billy hadn’t replaced the man from last night yet. 

After he had left Karen’s apartment he had gone straight to a convenience store and bought an electric razor. He had barricaded himself Inside of a dumpy subway restroom and had shaved off his beard and all of the hair on his head. Billy’s men were likely looking for a bearded man dressed in black right about now. The bald look would temporarily give him a leg up until they figured out he had gotten rid of all of his hair again.

He hadn’t dared to go back to his place. Not that it mattered. It was just a shitty apartment in a shitty part of town with only the bare minimum inside of it to keep him alive. A dirty stained mattress on a rusty bed frame, one chair and a small table in the kitchen, and an old beat up couch in the living room. He did have a stack of books that he had yet to read and discuss with Leo. Those were the only things that caused him to feel a small ache of regret.

He patted the pocket of his coat. He still had the EMP generator she had given him. 

The door swung open and a hand reached out and pulled him inside before slamming the door behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Micro hissed incredulously. He peeked out the little window next to the front door, rubbing his short cropped beard nervously.

“What do you mean? You said come by, so here I am,” Frank said, straightening his coat sleeve where Micro had grabbed him and feeling annoyed.

Micro turned to look at him and rolled his eyes, “Why didn’t you sneak in through the back like you normally do? Someone could have seen you,” he looked at Frank, noticing the fresh face for the first time. A look of understanding came over his face, “Oh, you thought shaving would be enough for them not to recognize you?”

Now Frank felt angry, “Hey! I can guarantee that I wasn’t followed. I killed the man they had on me just last night.”

Micro held up his hands defensively, “Okay. Okay… sorry.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. It was completely silent save for the ticking of a large grandfather clock in the adjacent room. Sarah and the kids must have left already. The house already felt hollow. Micro looked bleary eyed himself and like he hadn’t bothered to change his clothes or shower.

“What did you want to show me,” Frank grunted, feeling guilty.

“Right, follow me,” Micro said. 

Micro led Frank through the dining room, into the kitchen, and out the door that led into his two car garage.

It was a two car garage but there was only space for one vehicle because one side of the garage had been entirely converted into a kind of computer and woodworking workshop. It looked like a much larger version of Leo’s desk inside her room. There was a long table covered with different computer hardware: monitors, CPUs, hard drives and there were wires absolutely everywhere. Frank knew just by looking at it that it would have driven Maria crazy. She had liked having things neat and orderly in their house and had constantly nagged him about leaving his stuff everywhere. The sudden memory sideswiped him and he stopped in his tracks. He realized he hadn’t really thought about her in awhile. Had she even been in his dreams? 

“You look like shit,” Micro said, watching him.

“You’re not looking too good either,” Frank said. 

Micro glanced down at his stained flannel shirt and shrugged.

I haven’t slept,” Frank admitted, his voice croaking.

“Clearly,” Micro said. He walked over to the other side of the garage where a tall and large vehicle was covered by a blue tarp. He grabbed one end of the tarp and pulled it up and over revealing the car underneath it. 

It was a white, tall and windowless van like the ones used by businesses for transporting cargo. Frank stared at it.

“Okay? Nice van,” he said.

Micro waved him over impatiently, “Come look inside.”

Frank made his way over to the side of the van and Micro slid open the side door. Micro smirked seeing the look of surprise on Frank’s face.

The inside of the van had been converted into a kind of mini workstation. The front cab of the van was separated from the rest of the van by a thin partition with a door in it. Sitting in the front, one would not be able to see what was in the back. Micro had insulated the entire van and covered the insulation with thin panels of plywood. He had cut a small square hole in the ceiling and installed a vent with a fan. Right across from the sliding door he had built a twin size bed that could be converted into a couch to sit on. Above the bed/couch he had placed small cabinets for storage. Right next to the bed and extending towards the back of the van Micro had built a desk. A fold out chair hung from two hooks off the edge of the desk. On the wall in front of the desk he had attached five small monitors. There was also a laptop on top of the desk. Next to the desk there was a small sink with a removable jug of water above it and another jug underneath which the sink would drain into. The wall behind the desk was entirely taken up by a cabinet of some kind. 

“You made this?” Frank asked Micro, placing a hand on the wood paneling.

“Yeah,” Micro shrugged, “It was going to be a camper that my family and I could use. I had gotten as far as insulating the whole thing before deciding to convert it into...this,” he said indicating the interior of the van.

“Why?”

“Well… I wanted to prepare for the worst case scenario and it so happens that the worst case scenario is the one we are dealing with now,” Micro said simply. 

Frank shook his head. Micro was apparently one of those doomsday prepper types. Or he would be if he weren’t so busy being a whistleblower.

Micro climbed into the van and took out the folding chair, taking a seat in front of the desk, “Come on in. Try it out for size,” he said, switching on the laptop.

Frank got in the van after Micro and slid the door closed behind him. Micro flipped a switch near the bed and hidden LED lights along the ceiling paneling came on giving the interior a more modern feel. 

Frank could stand fully upright inside of the van and was for once grateful to be just under six feet tall. He sat down on the couch/bed and looked around. 

“What’s in there?” Frank said pointing at the cabinet. 

Micro turned around and opened the cabinet doors, “It’s storage space. I have some electronic equipment in there.” 

Frank got up and looked inside of the cabinet. Most of it was empty.

Micro caught Frank looking at the empty space, “It’s for gun storage,” he explained.

“Ah,” Frank nodded. 

“There’s also storage space underneath the bed, you know, for ammo or whatever,” Micro said, getting up and squeezing past Frank. He lifted the couch seat and revealed the empty space underneath. 

Replacing the seat, he opened the overhead cabinet, “Here we’ve got some coffee, some pasta, an electric hot plate, and more space for our nourishment needs,” he closed the cabinet, “And, we have a small fridge,” he said pointing at a portable fridge behind the passenger seat and next to the partition door. 

“How do you power all this?” Frank asked him as he opened the cooler to look inside. It was empty.

“I have solar panels on the roof,” Micro said, sitting back down on the fold out chair.

Frank sat back down on the couch, “I gotta say Lieberman, you have really outdone yourself.”

Micro smiled meekly. Then his expression turned serious. 

“Before I show you what I’ve got on the laptop, we need to drive to a more secure area,” he said, slamming the laptop shut and placing it in a slot inside of the cabinet behind him. He folded up the chair and hung it from its hooks.

“Come on,” Micro said, opening the partition door and taking a seat in the driver’s seat.

Frank got up and joined him in the front cab, shutting the partition door behind him.

“Where are we going?” He said, buckling his seatbelt.

“Far away from my house,” Micro said. He took out a remote and the garage door rose up behind the van. 

Frank settled into his seat, his eyes feeling heavy. Now was probably a good time for a short nap.

"Wake me up when we get there," he said, shutting his eyes.


	37. Foggy's Apartment

Karen had never been to Foggy’s apartment before. He lived in Greenwich Village, just a few blocks away from Washington Square Park and New York University. The neighborhood was very classy New York in appearance. His street was lined with gorgeous red brick townhouses and trees that would look beautiful when they were in full bloom in the springtime. There was an organic grocery store around the corner and a cozy looking cafe filled with young college students working on laptops. 

After Frank had left her apartment that morning she had immediately called Foggy and had told him that she needed to speak with him urgently and preferably at his place. He had picked her up in a yellow cab outside of her apartment building just twenty minutes later. 

He lived on the top floor of a four story townhouse with green shutters on the windows. The house had a small staircase leading up to the fontdoor that was lined with potted red geraniums. “Mrs. Millbury on the third floor takes care of them,” Foggy explained as he led her up to the green front door. 

The door opened up into a foyer with four apartment mailboxes lining the wall on the left. They made their way to a steep staircase towards the back which creaked with every step they took. Foggy had the entire top floor to himself. He had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, way more space than he probably needed. 

“Welcome to my not-so-humble abode,” he said, swinging his front door open.

The entryway led into a large open space living room and kitchen. Two square windows looked out onto the street they had just been on. The living room was tastefully decorated with an L shaped leather couch, a glass coffee table, and a large flat screen TV over the fireplace. A bookshelf full of law books and old paperbacks took up the entire wall behind the couch. The kitchen was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances and maple wood cabinets. 

“Wow, Foggy. Your place is amazing!” Karen said. She was rooted in place still wearing her outerwear. 

Foggy smiled, “Yeah, I used to live in Hell’s Kitchen when we were still doing Nelson and Murdock but I decided to move when I joined the new law firm.”

“Foggy, you’ve been working there for several months now. I wouldn’t call it new anymore,” Karen said. She removed her scarf, coat, and boots and joined Foggy in the living room. “You’re doing really well for yourself,” she added.

Foggy looked down at his feet, “Thanks,” he blushed, “Hey, do you want something to drink?”

“Sure,” she said, her eyes traveling over the large room.

“Go ahead and take a look around at the other rooms if you want," he said, noticing her interest, "The first door on the left is a guest room." He took out two glasses from a cupboard.

Karen let out a little squeal and Foggy laughed. “What can I say? I have a thing for nice apartments,” she said grinning.

She made her way down the hall to the guest room. There was another window that looked out onto the same street. A queen sized bed covered in a patchwork quilt and dozens of small pillows took up most of the room. Next to it there was a small night table with a lamp. Opposite the wall with the window was the wall closet. There was one painting depicting lily pads hanging on the wall across from the bed.

“My mom decorated this room,” Foggy said, from the doorway. He held out a glass of water to her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the water.

“She wanted a place she could come and stay in when she and dad are visiting,” he continued.

“I love the quilt,” Karen said, fingering the intricate pattern. 

“She actually made that,” Foggy said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Seriously?” Karen’s jaw dropped, “I love it!”

“She could make you one if you wanted,” Foggy said, leaning against the doorway. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“Please, she’d love it,” Foggy said.

Karen smiled and looked at Foggy standing there. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up revealing his forearms. His hair was still long and slicked back. He was looking down at the quilt and grinning. There had been a time when she had thought her relationship with Foggy would have gone beyond friendship. There had been a time she would have wanted it to.

He looked up at her, “Come check out my room,” he said.

Karen almost laughed wondering what he would have thought if he could read her mind.

His room was located across from the guest room. It was much larger and had an adjoining bathroom. The bed in his room was king sized and was also covered with a homemade quilt. There was a woman’s night slip draped over a chair in the corner. It was probably Marci’s. 

“Check out the view,” Foggy said, standing by the window.

Karen joined him and looked out. The window overlooked the private gardens behind the townhouses that lined the street. Every townhouse had a garden that was not visible to the public. Behind Foggy’s garden was the garden belonging to the townhouse on the adjacent street. She could see the gardens belonging to the houses next door as well. 

“This is beautiful!” She exclaimed, “You’d hardly even know this existed.”

“I share the garden with the rest of the tenants in my building. Mrs. Millbury is the one who does all the gardening, though. It’s kind of her thing,” he said.

Karen could see that this Mrs. Millbury was a pro at it. Their garden stood out amongst the others. There was an archway covered in ivy and a small cobbled path that led to a table and some chairs. There were a few flowers but not many because of the time of year. 

“I bet it looks beautiful in the spring,” Karen breathed.

“Yeah, you should come check it out,” Foggy said.

Karen gazed at the garden a little longer. Imagining Foggy and Marci enjoying brunch there on a lovely spring day. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Aw Karen, was I really that bad before?” Foggy said, shaking his head and giving her a small smile.

Karen laughed.

“Come on, let’s go to the living room.”

They made their way into the living room and Karen sank into his leather couch.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Foggy asked, taking a seat next to her.

Karen felt her stomach drop remembering the reason she was there in the first place and the events of the last few days. She sighed heavily. Did she really want to drag Foggy into her problems?

“Karen?” Foggy prompted.

Karen furrowed her brow. She didn’t want to ask for his help anymore. She didn’t want to mess up his life.

“Karen, whatever it is. I want to help,” Foggy said, knowing what she was thinking.

She let out a shaky sigh.

“Please, let me help you,” he said, putting a hand on her knee.

Karen squeezed his hand with hers and nodded taking a huge gulp of water before she began.

The second hand swept smoothly around the clock on the wall as she spoke. The sun rose higher in the sky and the shadows in the room began to shorten in length. Foggy sat silently with his head resting in his hands, not looking at her, but listening intently.

When she was done she sat back against the couch pillow feeling as though a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. 

Foggy stared ahead nodding slowly, deep in thought. When he finally spoke it was just above a whisper, “So, Frank Castle thinks this Russo guy is going to go after you?”

Karen leaned in and nodded.

“What kind of relationship do you and Frank have again?”

“We’re… friends,” Karen said defensively, “Frank doesn’t have a lot of people in his life, probably less than a handful and I just happen to be one of them so it would make sense that Russo would come after me,” she said quickly.

Foggy nodded again, “So, what’s the plan then?”

“Frank thinks I should leave town.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Maybe you should look into witness protection,” he said.

“I don’t want to leave forever. I love it here. I love my job, I love my friends, including you Foggy! I can’t,” she protested.

“I know,” he sighed, “I don’t want you to leave forever either.”

“I told Frank that I’m going to leave town for two weeks. My boss has been nagging me to take a vacation anyway. He thinks I work too much. Frank said that would probably be enough time for him to get Russo.”

“You mean kill him, right?”

Karen bit her lip and didn’t answer.

“What about just going to the authorities about this?”

Karen sighed, “Well, I’ve already talked to one of the agents of the Department of Homeland Security. She knows Frank and was the one investigating the whole Operation Cerberus thing…”

Foggy was nodding his head, “Madani, right? I’ve read your articles,” he said.

Karen felt a small twinge of pride but continued, “Yeah, Madani. She asked me to help her look for Frank.”

“And?”

“And… I said I’d try to talk to Frank about working together with them to get Russo.”

“I imagine that didn’t go over very well.”

Karen didn’t say anything.

“Where are you going to go?” Foggy asked her, changing the subject.

“I’m not sure,” Karen sighed, “I was thinking of going up and visiting my parents in Vermont. It’s been a while.”

“Okay. That sounds like a good plan. Do you have plane tickets yet?”

Karen shook her head.

“Okay, well, what if you just stayed here until you leave? They’re probably watching your apartment now. In fact, you probably shouldn’t even go back there.”

“What about my things? I need to pack, get my passport-”

Foggy sighed heavily, “You really shouldn’t go back there.”

They sat quietly trying to think of a solution. The clock ticked behind them, jarring with her thoughts.

Foggy clapped his hands suddenly making Karen jump, “Sorry,” he said, “I have an idea. We could send my coworker James to your place to grab your things. You remember James? He was at Josie’s the other night…”

Karen nodded remembering the guy who had bought her a drink, “Yeah, I remember. That could work,” she paused, “Are you sure, Foggy? I don’t want to put anyone in danger-”

Foggy held up his hand, “Don’t even. It’ll be fine. James won’t ask any questions. He’s good about that kinda thing,” he said, getting up from the couch.

“Okay. I need to let Frank know I’m going to be staying here,” she said.

“Okay, do you have his number?”

Karen shook her head, “No, we have a system.”

“A system?”

“Yeah. Tell James he needs to put the pot of white roses on the window sill.”

“... What?” 

“Just do it.”


	38. The Dream

It was a familiar scene. Frank was standing next to a white wooden horse his hand resting on the horse’s mane. The horse was gliding up and down as they rotated around a colorful pole adorned with mirrors. Frank could hear the carousel organ music and children’s laughter, though it appeared he was the only one there. 

Then he saw her. A woman wearing a blue and white floral dress, seated side saddle on one of the horses just around the corner. He could see the hem of her dress and her bare feet crossed at the ankles, toes pointed. He took a tentative step forward, wanting to see her face, but a movement in the corner of his eye made him stop. 

It was Billy, laying in the grass a few feet away from the carousel with a sniper in his arms. He was looking through the scope, looking right at the woman. Billy raised his head above the scope and looked at Frank as the carousel rotated by, flashing him a twisted grin. His face was covered in blood and tiny pieces of glass. Frank glanced to his left and saw the mirror right next to him was broken. 

He had to warn the woman. He made to move his legs but found he could barely move at all. It felt like his body had been sapped of all its strength. 

The carousel began to move faster, the music blurring together and becoming high pitched. The children’s laughter turned into screeching. Frank could still see the woman’s legs just around the bend. 

They were going to pass around into Billy’s view again.

“NO!” Frank attempted to scream, but he only let out a soft choking sound. 

Then he saw Billy again, looking through the scope, his finger on the trigger. Frank mustered up all the strength that he could and took another agonizingly slow step towards the woman.

A loud crack pierced through the air. The woman fell off the horse and blood splattered onto the pole. All at once it was silent and Frank could move again. Billy was gone.

Frank rushed to the woman’s side and turned over her lifeless body. Her blonde hair was slick with blood, a bullet hole boring straight through her head. Her blue eyes like glass, staring at nothing.

“Karen?” He shook her in disbelief, tears rolling down his face.

“KAREN!?”

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Karen’s body disappeared. He grabbed the arm and began to twist it.

“AH FRANK!” Micro yelped in alarm.

Frank stopped and stared at Micro wide eyed and gasping for breath. 

“K...Ka-”

“You were dreaming,” Micro said, brow furrowed with worry.

Frank looked around breathing hard. He was soaked in sweat and tears. He let go of Micro’s arm and rubbed his eyes. _It had been so real. So real._

“Frank, are you okay?” Micro asked carefully, rubbing his arm where Frank had grabbed him.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered, “Just gimme a minute.”

They were parked in some random industrial area. Frank could hear seagulls and distant traffic sounds. There were several other vans parked on the street. Most of them were white cargo vans used by the businesses nearby. Theirs blended right in.

“Come on, let’s get in the back,” Micro said. He locked the doors and opened the partition door, disappearing into the back. 

Frank unbuckled his seatbelt and followed. He shut the partition door behind him and they were in near total darkness, the only light coming from the vent in the roof.

“Go on and sit, I’ll make you some ramen,” Micro said, handing him a plastic cup of water.

Frank dropped down onto the couch gratefully and gulped down the water.

Micro took out the hotplate and a small pot, filling it with water to boil. He took out two bowls and two packages of ramen. Frank watched him without really seeing. He was still digesting the fact that it had been a nightmare and that Karen wasn’t really dead. His hand held his phone in his pocket. He wanted to call her to make sure.

Micro handed him a bowl, “I still need to get some actual groceries in here.”

Frank took it, “Thanks, Lieberman.”

They ate in silence. 

“I have nightmares every night,” Frank explained after a few minutes.

Micro only nodded.

“They’re usually about my wife and kids being killed right in front of me. Or it turns out I’m the one killing them,” he said, pushing his ramen around in his bowl with his fork.

“What are they about other times?” Micro asked him.

“Huh?” Frank said, his mouth full.

“You said they’re _usually_ about your wife and kids… what about the other times?” Micro said, holding out his fork in front of him.

Frank paused, “Yeah… yeah. This is the first time it was about someone else,” he said thoughtfully. 

Micro nodded again slowly.

“Don’t try waking me up next time,” Frank added, “That could’ve ended a lot worse for you.”

“Noted,” Micro said.

When they were done eating Micro took their bowls and placed them in the sink. Then he took the laptop out of the cabinet and switched it on.

“Where are we?” Frank asked him, listening to the sounds of large trucks driving by. There was relatively very little foot traffic in this area.

“In an industrial area in Brooklyn,” Micro said, typing furiously on his laptop.

After a few minutes of typing the five monitors on the wall switched on. 

“This is what I wanted to show you,” Micro said, sitting back in his chair.

Frank got up and stood behind him. The monitors on the wall were depicting different areas of Manhattan. The Grand Central-42 Street Station subway entrance, an alley near Josie’s, a street along the Hudson River, a street in Chinatown currently filled with some kind of street market, and the corner of Central Park and Columbus Circle. 

“Still have access to the surveillance cameras, huh?” Frank said, staring at the people rushing around on the monitors.

“Yup,” Micro said, typing some key words on his laptop. The monitors changed to show different areas of Manhattan. One of them was a security camera mounted right next to an apartment window. He could see the window sill clearly. It was empty, the curtains drawn.

“How long-”

“I’ve only been checking since Russo got out of the hospital,” Micro said quickly.

Frank nodded. 

“I wrote a program that will alert me if any of the cameras show me anything out of the ordinary, which could be anything like a child doing jumping jacks, or someone getting stabbed. I get alerts pretty frequently. I figured I could do this during the day while you slept and at night I’ll sleep while you go out patrolling,” he said. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Frank said, still watching the window sill.

Just then there was movement on the screen. The curtains were pulled aside and the window pushed open. Two large and muscular forearms carefully placed a pot of white roses on the window sill. Frank’s stomach dropped.

“Uh… who is that?” Micro said.


	39. Making Plans

Karen paced around Foggy’s apartment. Her insides were a ball of nerves. She wrung her hands. She didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself if something happened to James. Foggy seemed obscenely calm about all of this. He was in the kitchen making them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. 

Foggy had asked James to come over and had told him it was urgent. He had appeared downstairs just fifteen minutes later. Said he had been in the neighborhood checking out his niece’s dorm room at NYU. 

They had asked him to head to Karen’s apartment, stuff as many clothes as possible in the suitcase in her closet, grab her passport from the top drawer of her night stand, and most importantly, place the pot of white roses on the window sill.

“It has to be the white roses!” Karen said urgently.

James gave her a small smile, “Okay… can I ask what this is for?”

Karen glanced at Foggy.

“A bad relationship,” Foggy explained.

“Say no more,” James said, looking at Karen sympathetically.

He had been gone now for over half an hour. The wait was unbearable.

“Sandwich?” Foggy said, appearing in front of her with a plate.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it and immediately setting it on the coffee table. 

Foggy sat down on the couch and began eating.

“How are you so calm?” She asked him.

Foggy swallowed and put down his plate, “Karen, I want you to do something for me, okay? You ready?”

Karen nodded, crossing her arms.

“Okay, take a deep breath,” he said.

She uncrossed her arms and inhaled.

“Okay, now exhale,” he said, blowing air out of his mouth.

She exhaled.

“Okay, again, inhale…”

She took a few deep breaths like this and then joined him on the couch, “Thanks, Foggy,” she said, feeling only marginally better.

“There ya go,” he said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

She grabbed her plate and set it on her lap. She tore a piece off the edge and nibbled on it. 

Her phone rang and she sprang off the couch, the plate in her hand. She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter. It was an unknown phone number.

“It’s Frank,” she said before answering, “Hey.”

“Karen, what’s going on?” Frank said, sounding panicked.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she said reassuringly. Foggy watched her from the couch.

“I saw a man put out the flowers-”

“Yes, that’s a friend of mine. Look, I’m staying somewhere else and I was too afraid to go back to my place,” she said.

“Did something happen? Did somebody hurt you?” Frank demanded.

“No, no. I’m just being cautious. I decided I’m going to stay here until I leave. I’m with a friend. One that you _know_ ,” she said.

“Okay…yeah. Yeah,” Frank said, understanding.

“I think it’s probably better if we don’t see each other. I’ll be going out of town as soon as possible,” Karen added.

Frank sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“How do I contact you if I need to?”

“Yeah.. okay, okay!” Frank was talking to someone beside him.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, sorry. We have a GPS beacon you can use. If you’re in trouble you just switch it on and I’ll find you,” he said.

“How will you get it to me?”

“You know that cafe around the corner from where you’re at?”

It scared her a little how quickly he knew where she was. “Yeah…”

“It’ll be left there for you at the counter,” he said, “Have your friend pick it up at 6 tonight.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll know if you’ve left town safely,” he added.

“Okay,” she said, sadly, “Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, you too.”

She hung up and stared at the phone.

“Karen? You okay?” Foggy asked from the couch.

Karen nodded, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” She returned to the couch, “Frank’s going to leave a GPS beacon for me at the cafe around the corner. He said you can pick it up at 6 tonight.” 

“Okay. You didn’t even tell him where you were. How does he know?” Foggy asked, looking towards the windows as if he would see Frank out there with a pair of binoculars watching them.

“Well, I don't have many real friends so I think he figured it out," she said, giving Foggy a small smile, "I think he’s working with that Micro guy again too." She picked up her sandwich and began to eat, “I need to buy a plane ticket,” she said, her mouth full.

Foggy brought out his laptop and navigated to an airline website, “Earliest flight is tomorrow at 8:00 PM.”

“Let’s do it,” Karen said, taking her wallet out of her purse.

Twenty minutes later Foggy’s buzzer went off. Foggy pressed the talk button, “Yeah?”

“Foggy, it’s me.”

James had finally returned. Foggy ran down and helped James lug her large suitcase up the stairs while Karen waited in the apartment.

Karen threw her arms around James as soon as he entered. James patted her back in surprise.

“Thank you so much, James,” she said, letting him go.

James shrugged smiling happily, “It was no problem really.”

“Did you see anyone while you were there? Did you have any trouble?” She asked him.

“Uh… no. No one was there. I didn’t see anyone,” he reassured her.

“I brought you your passport,” he said, taking it out of the front pocket of his jeans and handing it to her. 

She took it, “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could repay you,” she said.

“Ah don’t worry about it. What are friends for, right?”

She smiled at him. It was nice to have someone normal in her life for once.

“James, you wanna stay for a bit? Eat something?” Foggy asked.

James turned his gaze away from Karen, “Yeah… sure. I’d like that. I gotta meet up with my niece for dinner later but I can stay until then,” he turned to look at Karen again.

“Great! You want something to drink?”

James followed Foggy into the kitchen and Karen took her suitcase into the guest room. She hauled it onto the bed and unzipped it. 

James had taken her clothes off their hangers and placed them neatly into the suitcase. She took the top pile of clothing out, revealing her underwear underneath. _Oh God_. She sifted through them, there were a couple of thongs, some lingerie, and more than a few embarrassing underwear with words like “Beach Bum” and “Call Me” written on the back. She flushed deeply, quickly covering them with her clothes again. James didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would have thought anything of it, she thought. She hoped.

She sat down on the bed and exhaled. 

Flight - Check.  
Passport - Check.  
Called Frank - Check.

It was time to give Ellison a ring.


	40. An Afternoon of Surveillance

Frank hung up his phone and watched the monitor showing Karen’s window sill and street. The white roses were rustling in the breeze.

Micro reached behind him and took out a small device from one of the cabinet’s drawers about the size of a cigarette lighter and held it out to Frank, “The GPS beacon.”

Frank took it and put it in the pocket of his coat. They watched the screen together in silence. A few minutes later a man emerged from the front door of the building, pulling a suitcase behind him. 

“That’s gotta be the guy,” Micro said, his eyes following the man as he walked down the street.

Frank’s eyes darted over the image, looking for anyone who might be watching the man. Business seemed to go on as usual on Karen’s street, though. No one followed the man. No one so much as glanced at him. He watched for several minutes after the man had disappeared from view just in case. When nothing happened Frank sighed in relief and sat back down on the couch. 

“You should get some sleep now, Frank,” Micro said, “You have a few hours before you need to go and deliver the beacon.”

Frank nodded and pulled the couch out from its place so that it would turn into a bed. He unrolled the sleeping bag on top of it and got in. “Only wake me up if it’s an emergency,” he said, “Nightmares don’t count.”

Micro nodded, “Sleep tight.”

Frank enveloped himself in the sleeping bag. “As snug as a bug in a rug,” is what he used to say to his kids when tucking them in at night. A heavy feeling passed over him at the thought and he shut his eyes. He was asleep only a few moments later.

For several hours they stayed like this. Micro staring at the five monitors and checking specific cameras whenever he received an alert. They had decided to fix one of the monitor’s on Foggy’s building and street. He had seen Karen’s friend arrive with the suitcase and leave the building a few hours later. Nothing unusual happened in that timeframe. He recorded that snippet of video just in case Frank wanted to review it later.

Every now and then a large truck would rumble by and shake the entire van as it rolled past. Several people having loud phone conversations walked by the van, one of them stopping to lean against the wall near the van, cackling and exclaiming loudly into his phone. Micro glanced at Frank but he was in a deep sleep. Occasionally twitching and moaning, but mostly just breathing deeply. 

Micro stretched his arms overhead and yawned. Staring at the monitors was very tedious. He did witness some strange things, like people urinating in alleyways or, worse, defecating right onto the street. There were a lot of drug deals and the occasional person shooting up behind a dumpster. 

He checked Karen’s street again and noticed a figure leaning against a wall across from her apartment. Micro zoomed in and took a still shot just in case. The man had on a gray beanie and was sporting a 5 o’clock shadow. He was smoking a cigarette and staring up at the buildings across from him, which included Karen’s building. Micro watched with interest as the man finished his cigarette and stamped it out, then got in the car in front of him and sat in the driver’s seat. 

Micro received several alerts while Frank was asleep. The alerts were mostly triggered by unusually fast movement happening in front of one of the cameras. Micro would switch as quickly as possible to the camera in question but never found anything. He kept a log of the different cameras that alerted him, thinking he’d map them out later. 

The man in the car remained there for the rest of the time that Frank was asleep. Micro zoomed in and took several still shots. Unfortunately, the man’s license plate was mud splattered and he could only make out the first two letters.

Frank gasping awake a few minutes later made Micro’s heart leap in his chest. Frank sat up abruptly, looking around him crazily and hyperventilating. The sleeping bag was damp with sweat. 

“Frank? It’s okay. Everything is fine,” Micro said, trying to use his best spa voice.

Frank looked at him with eyes like daggers, his expression softening upon recognizing Micro’s face.

Frank’s phone alarm going off made them both jump. Frank grunted and switched it off, rubbing his eyes.

“See anything?” He croaked, unzipping the sleeping bag.

“Yeah, I saw Karen’s friend return to Foggy’s with her things. Didn’t see anything out of the ordinary there. I also kept an eye on her street and noticed this guy,” he said, pulling up the still shot he had taken on his laptop.

Frank leaned over Micro’s shoulder and peered at the man. 

“He was standing right here against this wall,” Micro said, pointing at the monitor displaying Karen’s street, “Now he’s sitting in this car and he’s been there this entire time.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed, “Looks like I have some interrogating to do,” he said in a low voice.

“Here, take this,” Micro said, reaching into the cabinet again. He pulled out an ear piece and handed it to Frank. “I can let you know if this guy moves and where he goes,” he said.

Frank took the ear pierce and put it in a small backpack. He checked his watch. He had about two hours to spare before he wanted to begin patrolling. “You want some ramen?” He asked Micro as he took the hotplate out from the overhead cabinet.

“Sure,” Micro said, not taking his eyes away from the monitors.

Frank made them both ramen and some coffee for himself. He ate quickly, watching the monitors with Micro who showed him the clip he had recorded of Karen’s friend returning to Foggy’s apartment. Frank chewed slowly as he watched Foggy answer the door and the two of them disappear into the building together. Foggy’s friend was well built and a sharp dresser. The glasses he was wearing gave him an intellectual look and he had a kind face. He was the kind of guy you took home and introduced to your parents. Probably a lawyer. Pretty much perfect for Karen. No extra baggage, no crazy nightmares, no killing…

Frank grunted.

“What? Did you see something?” Micro asked him, rewinding the clip.

Frank shook his head, “No, it’s fine. Nobody saw him.”

He glanced at the monitor displaying Karen’s street. The man was still seated in that car.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out. Gotta make a stop before I head into Manhattan,” Frank said, “You see anything, you call me. If that guy moves, call me,” he said pointing at the man in the car on the screen.

“Will do,” Micro said.

Frank opened the partition door a crack and checked the street. The sun was already beginning to set in the sky. There was no one out on the street. Micro had picked a remote enough area alright.

He left the van and headed towards the subway.


	41. Modifying the Program

Micro turned back to the monitors. He checked the time in the top right corner of his laptop. He figured he’d be able to go to bed after Frank interrogated the guy on Karen’s street. He let out a drawn out yawn and rubbed his eyes.

He typed a few key words onto the laptop and all of the monitors switched to show different rooms in his house. The living room, the kitchen, the garage, Leo’s room, and Zach’s room. They were all empty. 

Micro sighed. After his shift he’d find a payphone and call Sarah. It was hard to wait.

An alert for unusual rapid movement popped up on his laptop screen. He tapped a few keys and the bottom right monitor switched to show a random alleyway. There was no one there. Micro frowned. 

He opened up the source code for the alerts. He wanted to change the program so that any time there was an alert, one of the monitors would immediately switch to the camera in question. He added a few lines of code and ran some tests. His tests showed his code now had several bugs. Micro sighed and settled in for some more involved programming.

Movies and TV shows liked to make programming look sexy. Usually showing green text flying across a black screen and making it seem like you could hack into the government’s servers in 30 seconds flat. Micro always laughed when he saw scenes like this. The truth was, programming could be incredibly frustrating. But there was nothing better than the feeling of accomplishment when something he wrote actually worked. And worked well.

Micro changed a few lines of code, ran tests, found bugs, modified the code and ran tests again. He did this several times, the tests showing fewer bugs as he went along. After nearly 45 minutes of coding his tests finally came up clear. 

“Yes!” He exclaimed, fist pumping. Now the alerts would automatically switch one of the monitors to the affected camera without him having to waste time switching to it manually himself.

He sat back and crossed his arms, hoping an alert would pop up soon. He needed to see this work in action. He tapped his foot impatiently, watching the people stream in and out of view on the monitors like ants scurrying across an ant hill.

A few minutes later an alert popped up and the top left monitor switched to show a rooftop. Micro jumped up and leaned in, the screen illuminating his face. For a split second he saw a figure running out of view. It had been so fast he couldn’t make out any features. He noted the date, time, and location of this occurrence in his log book. 

“Maybe if I rewrite the program to snap a photo as soon as there is cause for an alert...” he said to himself getting excited, “I could also have the computer automatically log the occurences for me.”

He sat back down, cracked his knuckles, straightened his back, and began typing furiously.


	42. An Anonymous Drop

Frank sat on the subway staring into space. He had dreamt about Karen again. This time the dream had started out pleasantly. They were in a meadow, walking together towards a large willow tree in the distance. She was laughing, her golden hair glistening in the sunlight. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. Everything seemed to be illuminated in a soft glow.

They were walking through tall grass that reached their waists. She was dressed in the same blue and white floral dress. He couldn’t remember what he had been wearing, his eyes had been entirely on her. 

When they cleared the grass she began to run ahead of him, daring him to keep up. He jogged after her, watching her hair swing back and forth behind her. She had nearly reached the willow tree when his pace began to slow down on its own. He looked down at his body, confused. 

Then he saw him, hidden in the tall grass, several feet away from the tree, sniper pointed straight at Karen. 

Again Frank was powerless, again he couldn’t cry out. 

A shot rang out and Karen fell to the ground at the base of the tree. Frank’s strength returned and he sprinted towards her body. He held her in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably before waking up inside of the van, a worried Micro staring at him.

Frank’s heart ached at the memory. 

The subway came to a stop and Frank pushed through the crowd towards the exit. He jogged a couple of blocks until he reached Curtis’s apartment building.

He knocked on Curtis’s door and waited patiently. A few minutes later he heard Curtis’s uneven footsteps approach the door and the sounds of the door chain being taken off the hook.

“Frank,” Curtis said, looking surprised and stepping aside to let Frank in.

Frank entered Curtis’s apartment, “Is it safe to talk in here?”

Curtis nodded, “Yeah, as far as I know. I’ve been checking every day for bugs but haven’t found any.”

Frank looked around and checked the obvious places anyway. Curtis watched him, his arms folded across his chest. Frank glanced out the window but didn’t see anyone suspicious. He wondered if Billy had decided not to go after Curtis this time.

“I need you to do something for me,” Frank said, his voice barely above a whisper. He took the beacon out of his coat pocket and handed it to Curtis. “Take this to the cafe on the corner of west 10th street and west 4th street in Greenwich Village. Give this to the guy behind the counter too,” he handed Curtis 200 dollars in cash, “And tell him to give the beacon to a Franklin Nelson. Tell him to make sure it’s Franklin Nelson by checking his ID.”

Curtis took the beacon and cash, “Okay… what’s this about?”

“I’m just trying to protect someone,” Frank said.

“The reporter?”

“Yeah,” Frank admitted, looking away, “I’m pretty sure one of Billy’s guys is outside of her place right now.”

“You should get over there,” Curtis said.

“Yeah, she’s staying somewhere else but yeah, that’s my next stop. What about you? Seen anything?”

Curtis furrowed his brow in thought, “Actually, yeah.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“You remember that guy who used to come to group? Went by the name Mark Willis?”

Frank searched his memory, “Yeah… he was kinda short, always wore a red baseball cap?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. He stopped coming to the meetings after you stopped,” Curtis said, “I thought it was kind of odd.”

Frank pictured Mark Willis sitting across from him in group. He had been an unassuming guy, kind of quiet. He removed Mark’s baseball hat in his mind’s eye and he realized who it had been.

He snapped his fingers, “That was the guy!”

Curtis stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“He was following me,” Frank explained, “I took him out last night.”

“He was one of Billy’s guys?”

“Yeah, yeah definitely,” Frank said, picturing all the times he had seen Mark Willis at the meetings, “That was definitely him.”

Curtis nodded slowly, crossing his arms, “Well… alright then.”

“Yeah…” Frank said, “What did you know about him?”

Curtis shrugged, “Not much really. Just that he served in Afghanistan for a few years and left when his service was done. Mark Willis is probably not even his real name. I don’t usually check these things out with my members.”

"Maybe you should. You've always been way too trusting of people." 

Curtis gave him a half smile, “I assume the best in people,” he said, eyeing Frank.

“That’s what I like about you,” Frank said. He clapped Curtis on the shoulder, “Well, I need to head out. Will you be able to get that beacon to the cafe before six tonight? So, sometime in the next hour and a half?” Frank asked him, glancing at his watch.

Curtis nodded, “Sure thing.”

“Thank man.”


	43. A Sense of Normalcy

James stayed over at Foggy’s for a few hours and Marci joined them in the later afternoon. Marci had no qualms about Karen staying at Foggy’s. Foggy had given her the same story about a bad relationship and Marci had understood completely. “Don’t worry, girl. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” she had said. Karen had felt touched. Foggy’s friends seemed to really care about her wellbeing.

Ellison had been completely okay with her leaving on vacation with only two days notice. 

“You’re _finally_ going on vacation. I’m relieved,” he had said, “Where are ya headed?”

“Vermont.”

“Oh… it’s cold up there isn’t it?”

Karen and James were now seated on bar stools at the kitchen counter while Foggy and Marci were in the kitchen cooking an actual meal that didn’t consist of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They drank beer and watched Marci and Foggy bicker over the food.

“You two are like an old married couple,” James said.

“Hey! I resent that,” Foggy said, as he chopped an onion. He wiped at his eyes.

Marci laughed, “Careful, you’ll start crying.”

Foggy sniffed, “Too late.”

They laughed. Karen was feeling much lighter than before. Probably because she was on her second beer now. She felt giddy and comfortable.

“So, you used to work with Foggy?” James asked Karen, angling his body to face her.

Karen flushed, “Yeah, I was his secretary when he was still working at his own firm, Nelson and Murdock.”

“How’d you get that job?”

“Uh… I kind of just fell into it,” Karen said, taking a large swallow of beer, “What about you? How’d you decide on law school?”

“My dad was a lawyer. I kind of followed in his footsteps. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do anyway so I figured, why not?” He said. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at her, his dark eyes shining, “How’d you go from being a secretary to an investigative reporter?”

Karen laughed, “I kind of fell into that too. It wasn’t really a plan. I was doing some investigating on my own about a case of ours and the editor at the New York Bulletin admired my work ethic.”

“So you kind of march to the beat of your own drum, huh? I like that,” James said, smiling at her.

 _Oh boy_. Karen took another sip of beer and looked away. She caught Foggy’s eye. He smiled broadly at her. He must be enjoying this, she thought.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like James. She barely knew him. She could tell he was a nice guy and he was probably hardworking. He wouldn’t be where he was today if he weren’t. He was the boy next door, a perfect gentleman. She almost felt like she didn’t deserve someone like that. He needed someone normal, with a normal job and normal extracurricular activities. A wholesome girl who liked going to the farmer’s market on Sundays and drinking milkshakes while watching the sun set. Not someone who was practically married to her work to the point of obsession. Someone who hung out with literal superheroes and put her life in danger time and time again. Someone who was associated with a person who many considered a monster. Though she knew he was not. Someone who had killed a man. Even if it was in self defense.

No, James didn’t need that in his life. She had to nip this in the bud. She got up, “You guys need any help?” She asked Foggy and Marci.

“Not really,” Marci said, “I think we’ve got it.”

“I’ll set the table then,” Karen said desperately.

“I’ll help,” James offered, getting up from his bar stool.

 _Damn_.

They set the table together, Karen avoiding James’s eyes. He picked up on the change in her demeanor.

“Are you okay?” He asked her softly so that Foggy and Marci couldn’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you mean?”

“You just seem… upset,” he said, his brow creased.

“No, it’s just… my relationship, you know?” She lied.

James nodded, “Yeah, I understand.”

Karen felt a tremendous amount of guilt. He was just trying to be nice and he had done her a huge favor. Unbeknownst to him, a life risking favor.

“I’m sorry. I’m just going through a lot right now. It’s a little weird to be doing something so normal like this,” she said, shrugging helplessly.

“No worries. I get it.” He places utensils around the four plates Karen had laid out. “I don’t know anything about the guy you’re seeing but from what I can tell, you deserve better,” he said.

Karen blushed a deep red. 

“Come on. Let’s go help them in the kitchen,” he said. 

Karen nodded and followed him into the kitchen. 

As she watched Foggy interact with his friends that afternoon she wondered what it would be like if she stopped keeping ties with the world of superheroes and villains. If she just lived life blissfully unaware like James seemed to be doing and like Foggy seemed to be trying to do.

Deep down she knew this would never happen. She had tried to with Matt and he had somehow sucked her back into it. Her life was way too entrenched in it. Now that she knew about what was _really_ going on in the shadows of New York City, there was no way for her to forget. She couldn’t just sit back and let shitty things keep happening. Someone had to keep the public informed. Someone had to keep exposing these people. Whether she liked it or not this was her reality now. Plus if she stopped, it would mean cutting ties with Frank completely. For some reason just the thought of doing that frightened her to her core.


	44. The Interruption

Frank peeked around the corner down Karen’s street. The car he had seen in the surveillance tape was still there. He felt anger surge through him. 

He leaned against the wall. He was wearing a long coat and a small backpack containing a few supplies. He had placed Leo’s EMP generator inside of the bag and he was wearing the ear piece Micro had given him though he hadn’t made contact with Micro yet.

His phone buzzed in his coat pocket and he took it out. It was a text from Curtis.

_The eagle has landed._

He had delivered the beacon. 

_Ack_ , he texted back. Short for Acknowledged.

He pocketed his phone and glanced around. The sun had completely set but there were still too many people out, too many potential witnesses, so he needed to be a little more subtle about this. He grabbed a nearby rock and tossed it at the car. It bounced off the back with a loud thud.The guy in the car looked around in his seat, then got out of the car cursing. As he was inspecting the back of his car Frank stalked over to him, wielding a knife in his hands. He poked it against the small of the man’s back. The man whipped around.

“Do as I say and nobody has to get hurt,” Frank said in a low voice.

“Castle,” the man whispered. His eyes widened realizing what he had said had revealed himself.

“Get in the car,” Frank demanded. 

The man walked shakily towards the driver’s side of the car, the knife pressing into his back. He got inside and Frank hit the unlock button on the driver’s door, before the man could slam it shut, and got into the seat behind him. He held the knife to the guy’s throat. 

“What is your name?” Frank asked him.

“Temple.”

“Your real name,” Frank grunted.

“Gu-Gutierrez.”

“Drive, Gutierrez.”

Gutierrez’s hands trembled as he turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life and loud hip hop blared from the radio.

“Shut that shit off,” Frank growled.

Gutierrez hit the power button and the radio shut off. He pulled out of the parking space and drove for two blocks.

“Wh-where am I going?” He asked, his voice shaky.

“Drive towards the Hudson River,” Frank said.

Gutierrez exhaled and turned left, heading towards the water.

“Turn in here,” Frank commanded after they had driven for several blocks in complete silence.

They turned into a dark and empty alleyway that ended with a chain link fence. The Hudson river stretched just beyond the fence, it’s surface black in the night.

“Shut the car off.”

Gutierrez parked and took the key out of the ignition.

“Give me the keys.”

Gutierrez held the keys out to Frank. They jingled in his shaking hands. Frank grabbed them and pocketed them. He held the knife close to the man’s throat.

“What were you doing parked on that street all day?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t even try to bullshit me. I saw you. You were there all day long,” Frank growled in the man’s ear.

Gutierrez gulped, sweat pouring down his face. Frank pressed the knife a little deeper into his throat, drawing a little bit of blood.

“OKAY!” Gutierrez squeaked, terrified, “I’ll talk.” 

Frank released a little bit of pressure and Gutierrez blew out all the air from his lungs.

“I was watching the apartment building across the street. Third floor, second window from the left, the one with the flowers.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Frank said, digging the knife into the cut he had made.

“Okay! Okay! Please don’t cut me.”

Frank stopped.

“We’re watching out for the girl. The reporter with blonde hair. Russo wanted us to keep tabs on her,” Gutierrez said, between rapid breaths.

“Why?” Frank demanded.

“I don’t know!” Gutierrez threw his hands up in the air and Frank slammed his knee into the back of the driver’s seat.

“NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS,” he yelled.

Gutierrez lowered his arms immediately. “It’s classified information. Only the need-to-knows know.”

Frank considered this momentarily, staring into the blackness of the river ahead. Gutierrez glanced at Frank through the rearview mirror and then in an act of courage, or perhaps of foolishness, he grabbed Frank’s wrist and twisted. Frank yelped and the knife fell from his hand.

Frank slammed the palm of his other hand into the back of the driver’s seat in anger. He reached with his right arm and grabbed the collar of Gutierrez’s jacket as Gutierrez fumbled with the car door. Gutierrez blindly waved the knife at Frank’s arm, stabbing him and leaving a deep gash. Frank let go of the jacket and Gutierrez burst out of the car. 

Gutierrez turned to face the car, brandishing the knife into the air, a triumphant smile on his face. Frank kicked open the car door and the man’s smile faltered.

“Don’t come any closer!” The man called out weakly, holding the knife in front of him.

Frank strutted towards him, not breaking eye contact, his long black coat billowing behind him. Blood dripped from his right arm down to the ground, leaving a trail of droplets in his wake.

He was only a few feet away from him when the car’s headlights flickered on, illuminating them in a bright spotlight.

“The fu-” Gutierrez uttered, holding his arm up to shield the light. Frank had immediately dived behind a nearby dumpster.

Someone inside of the car pressed down on the car horn, letting out a deafening incessant blare. Frank peered around the corner of the dumpster but the light was blinding and Frank couldn’t make anything out.

Gutierrez made a run for it, scurrying past the car and out of the alleyway.

“HEY!” Frank bellowed.

Whoever was inside of the car let go of the horn and made a run for it too, disappearing around the corner.

Frank sprinted after them, his blood pumping. Someone had sabotaged his interrogation. He pressed the button on his ear piece.

“Lieberman, come in.”

He heard some static and then Micro’s voice, “Frank, he went down Canal Street, over.”

Frank looked up and saw Canal Street up ahead, he turned right. 

“He’s about five blocks ahead of you, over.”

Frank pumped his arms harder, his lungs screaming for air. 

“Frank, he’s getting into a black Escalade, over.”

Frank could see the black vehicle up ahead. A pair of arms was pulling Gutierrez into the vehicle. He roared, willing his legs to move faster. The Escalade screeched out of there, speeding down the now empty street.

“WHERE ARE THEY GOING?” He screamed into the ear piece. He doubled back, heading back to the car in the alleyway.

“Ah! Frank. Don’t scream into the ear piece,” Micro said, annoyed, “They’re driving down Canal Street, I think they’re heading for Brooklyn Bridge, over!”

Frank made it back to the alleyway. The car’s headlights were still on. He jumped into the car and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered and then fell silent.

“What kind of piece of shit car,” He mumbled, turning the key in the ignition again. 

Nothing happened.

Frank slammed his hands on the steering wheel letting out an angry scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a lot of writing done this week. If anyone has read this far I appreciate any feedback! Thanks for reading :)


	45. The Bug

Frank sat seething in the car, the sleeve of his coat soaked in blood.

“Frank. Frank, I lost them… over,” Micro said in a small voice.

Frank pressed the talk button, “What about the other guy?” he demanded.

“He's gone too… over.”

Frank ripped off the earpiece in anger and stuffed it in his bag. He pulled out an extra shirt he had and wrapped it around the gash in his forearm. It throbbed in pain. He would need stitches.

He exited the vehicle and stormed off. Billy’s man Gutierrez had gotten away and someone had aided him. Probably another one of Billy’s guys. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to scream.

He marched all the way back to Karen’s street and entered her building, not caring who was watching. He took the steps two at a time to the third floor. Using the spare key she had given him, he unlocked the door.

The apartment was cold and empty. It felt abandoned, despite all of Karen’s possessions everywhere. It looked like she had left in a hurry. There were two unwashed bowls in the sink and two mugs of old coffee on the table. He went over to her bedroom and stood in the doorway. The clothing that had been on the floor was gone. Her bed was still a rumpled mess. 

He returned to the living room. The window with the flowers was letting in all the cold air. He stalked over to it, brought the flowers back inside and shut the window.

He entered her bathroom and took off his coat. He retrieved the first aid kit from his backpack and untied the shirt from around the gash. The shirt was completely soaked in blood. Trickles of blood were seeping out of the wound. He grit his teeth as he cleaned it with some antiseptic. Then he took out a needle and thread from his kit. He sucked in his breath as he stabbed the needle into his skin. The rush of pain almost felt good. It was intense enough that he momentarily forgot his anger. He closed his eyes and tensed his muscles. When it subsided he began to sew, pausing to bite his lip after every stitch.

When he was done he wrapped his arm in gauze and used his shirt to clean up the mess he had made in her sink. 

He made his way into her living room and scanned it. A pale blue scarf was draped over her sofa. Without thinking he grabbed it and held it up to his face. It was soft and still smelled like her. He set it back down.

He began with the ceiling lights. He unscrewed their covers and checked the bulbs. He checked every shelf of her bookshelf, throwing books onto the floor. He ran his hand along the bottom of the couch and checked the cushions for tears. He went room by room, furniture piece by furniture piece, object by object. Nothing.

He took a screwdriver out of his pack and unscrewed the electrical sockets around her apartment. Finally, behind a socket near the couch he found it. A listening device. 

He held it up to his mouth, “Listen you piece of shit," his voice was raw and full of fury, "You stay away from her. I am coming for you. I am coming for you and all your men.”

He dropped the device on the floor and crushed it with the bottom of his combat boot.


	46. Evening Report

Billy sat in a large arm chair that Jeremy and Chang had hauled into his room. The dark brown cane with the red leather handle Chang had brought him was leaning against it. It matched Billy’s maroon silk bathrobe.

It had been a long afternoon. His speech had riled everyone up, as he had wanted it to, and in the afternoon hours several of his employees had come by with ideas on how to catch Castle or offering themselves up for the most dangerous tasks. 

Billy had smiled and nodded and listened all day long. It had taken a lot out of him and now he was slumped in the oversized chair, its size making him look like a tiny child. It was evening and all he wanted to do was rest his exhausted body and mind but there had been a commotion in the computer lab and Jeremy had appeared in his room not long after.

Jeremy stood across from him in a crisp dark suit and an earpiece. His hair slicked back, he looked like a secret agent straight out of a Bond movie. He was wearing his best poker face but Billy could see his hands were twitching ever so slightly. He was nervous. That wasn’t good.

“What is it, Jeremy?” Billy asked him, leaning forward in the chair.

Jeremy swallowed hard, “We sent two men out to Page’s apartment this morning after you made the order, Gutierrez and Michaels. One to bug her apartment and the other to act as a lookout. Michaels reports that Page was not at the apartment when he arrived and that he had no issues bugging the place. Gutierrez stayed behind to wait for her to show up and keep an eye out,” Jeremy paused.

“Sounds good so far,” Billy said, nodding, “Continue.”

“According to Gutierrez, around noon he took a lunch break and wasn’t keeping a close eye on the apartment. He says when he looked back there was a pot of flowers on her window sill. So he assumed she had come home and had just missed seeing her enter the building.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. A particularly large scar that swept over his nonexistent right eyebrow turned an ugly shade of purple and began to throb. _One should never assume._

A bead of sweat began to trickle down Jeremy’s forehead. “The rest of the day went by without any activity. Then in the evening, around 0600 hours, Gutierrez was confronted by Castle.”

Billy sat up sharply. His heart began to pound in his chest.

“Castle held him at knifepoint and ordered him to drive to an abandoned alleyway near the Hudson River. Once there Gutierrez said he managed to pry the knife away from Castle and they were in a standoff, standing in front of the car in the alleyway. Gutierrez says he was sure he was done for.”

Billy knew all too well that a knife would never have stopped Castle. “Go on,” he urged Jeremy.

“Well, something strange happened,” Jeremy said, his forehead creasing, “According to Gutierrez, someone inside of the car turned on the headlights and then pressed the car horn without letting go. In the confusion, Gutierrez bolted and was picked up a few blocks away by a group of our men who were in the area looking for Castle.”

Billy tapped the armrest on his chair, “What happened to Castle?”

“Well, all day long we’ve been listening to the bug that Michaels had planted in Page’s apartment. The report says that nothing of note was heard. Just some movement around noon and then a lot of movement an hour after Gutierrez’s confrontation with Castle.”

Jeremy took a tape recorder out of his pocket and pressed the play button. There was silence. Then a strange clicking sound and then a menacing voice.

“Listen you piece of shit. You stay away from her. I am coming for you. I am coming for you and all your men.”

Another click and silence. The tape stopped.

“Castle,” Billy whispered, shaking his head, “That son of a bitch.” He let out a loud guffaw.

Jeremy stared at him, not knowing whether he should join in the laughter or not.

If there was one thing Billy could count on, it was that things were always interesting when it came to Frank Castle. 

His laughter died down and he began to cough. Jeremy handed him a glass of water. Billy took several long gulps.

“Send me the man who helped Gutierrez in the alley,” he said.

“I… can’t, sir,” Jeremy said hesitantly.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Billy demanded.

“We don’t know who it was. It wasn’t one of our men.”

Billy leaned against the back of the chair and gave Jeremy a dumbfounded stare.

“It seems we might not be the only ones who want to stop Castle,” Jeremy offered.

Billy nodded slowly, “Yes…” But it didn’t make sense to him. Who even knew Castle was still alive? And why were all his men so incompetent?

His head began to pound as he thought. 

“Why didn’t Gutierrez have a gun?”.

“It was in the glove compartment of the car. He was too afraid to reach for it,” Jeremy said.

“Are we not world-class war veterans!?,” he barked.

Jeremy flinched ever so slightly.

Billy took a minute to control his temper. It wouldn’t do good to have his number one employee fear him too much.

“Demote him to some other task,” he said, in the most temperate tone he could muster, “One that doesn’t require much critical thinking. I want our best men out on the streets searching for any sign of Castle or the girl. All those men who came here this afternoon wanting to be placed in the most dangerous missions? Give them that opportunity.”

Billy paused as Jeremy took notes on his smartphone.

“I still want someone outside of Page’s apartment and her work building. Give them snipers and tell them to watch out for Castle. Remind them that I want him alive, so if anyone decides to shoot at him they better be sure that they only incapacitate him. Have someone figure out how to check if Page has used her passport to leave the city too. If they find her, I want them to capture her and I want her _alive_ , you hear me?”

Jeremy nodded.

“Only the very best men,” Billy reminded him.

“You got it,” Jeremy said.

“No more wasting time. I want Castle and Page and I want them as soon as possible!” He spat.

“Yes, sir!”

“You may go. I need to rest,” Billy said, “Wake me if it’s an emergency.” 

Jeremy promptly left the room. Billy reached for his cane and pushed himself to his feet. He shuffled to his bed and climbed in, leaning the cane against the dresser.

He was physically extremely tired but now his mind was racing. Someone had saved Gutierrez from certain death. Some unknown character that no one had gotten a good look at. We could use this person on our team, he thought. 

He ran his fingers along the skin on his face, feeling the rough edges where once it had been smooth. He grimaced and turned over. If only he weren’t so physically weak right now. He would scour the streets himself. _He_ would have found Page and lured Castle into a trap by now. 

Scenarios in which he rose as the victor and Castle as the loser played themselves out over his closed eyes. In them his face was as smooth as it had ever been. His hair as full as a young teenage boy’s from the 80s. 

His favorite scenario was the one where he slowly performed unspeakable acts on Page while Castle was forced to watch. Then he’d kill her in front of him, as simply as though she were an annoying fly he had to swat. Castle would be reduced to an empty shell of a human. A wild animal with nowhere to channel his anger. With no one to _punish_. He wouldn’t be able to end his misery himself, they’d see to that. All that there would be left for him to do was relive the deaths of his wife, his son, his daughter, and now Karen Page. All he would be able to dwell on was his inability to protect them. 

A smile played at his lips as he finally began to drift off to sleep.


	47. Morning Report

Monday morning in New York City was hectic. The weekend was over and New Yorkers everywhere were rushing to work. Frank walked slowly amongst them, backpack straps cinched all the way up, and his hoodie low over his brow.

The rest of the night had been relatively uneventful. After finding the bug in Karen’s apartment he had gone in search of guns. 

There were three ways to go about getting guns in the city. The first way was to just buy them from a gun store. This was the worst way. It left a paper trail, you needed special paperwork, and it wasn’t even legal to buy the amount of guns he needed. 

The second way was to purchase them under the table. This was a little better in that the guns you bought would be guns not falling into the hands of criminals. It was bad in the sense that you would be putting money into an illegal operation.

The third way was to just steal the guns from criminals. This was the best way and this is what he had done last time he had needed a truckload of guns. 

It had taken most of the night to track Turk Barrett down. Turk was the one to talk to about the goings-on around the city. Especially of the illegal sort. Turk had a habit of always being involved in these kinds of things, claiming he only did it because he needed the money for his family. He was harmless otherwise, so Frank had let him off easy again.

Turk, fearing for his life, had led him to a shipping container full of guns, ready to be sold to a group of Irish criminals.

“Pretty soon no one’s going to hire me anymore,” he had said.

“Maybe you should look for a different line of work,” Frank had advised.

He had called Micro up, disrupting his much needed sleep, and asked him to come around with the van. They had then loaded it up with as many guns and ammo as possible. After that they had driven to another remote industrial spot, this time in Manhattan itself, and Frank had gone out again to continue the hunt.

Frank arrived at the van that morning hungry and exhausted. He climbed into the back through the partition and was surprised to see that Micro was already awake and sitting at the desk typing on his laptop.

Micro turned to face him when he entered, “Mornin,” he said cheerfully. Much too cheerfully for Frank this early in the day. “Made you some breakfast… er... dinner. A sandwich,” he said, pointing at a tray that was laying on the couch. 

“You did groceries?” Frank asked in disbelief, “How long have you been up?” He grabbed the sandwich and took a big bite.

“I couldn’t go to sleep after picking up the guns. I had some work I wanted to do on here anyway,” Micro said without looking up from the laptop, “I’m trying to modify my alert system so that it takes pictures but I haven’t figured it out yet. So far, I’ve gotten it to start logging all of the alerts, so that’s good.”

Micro turned to look at Frank but he had his eyes closed and was chewing on a bite of sandwich.

“Anyway, I just had some work I wanted to do,” Micro said softly.

“Mmhmm,” Frank muttered.

“How did the rest of the night go?” Micro asked, hoping the memory of the early portion of the night wouldn’t anger Frank.

Frank swallowed, “Uneventfully.”

Micro waited but Frank apparently didn’t have anything else to add.

“I called Sarah this morning.”

Frank’s eyes flew open, “And?”

Finally, he was interested. “She and the kids are fine,” he sighed, “I called them from a payphone of course. They say the weather in California is much better than here. They even went to the beach.”

Frank smiled for the first time that night. 

“She says hi.”

“Give her my best when you call her again,” he said, between bites of sandwich.

“Will do,” Micro said, turning back to his monitors.

“See anything on the cameras?” Frank asked after a few minutes. He had finished his sandwich and was now removing his boots and hoodie.

Micro shook his head, ‘Karen’s been staying put at Nelson’s. Don’t think Russo knows where she is.”

“Good. That changes, wake me up.”

Frank pulled the couch into a bed and got into the sleeping bag. Another few minutes later he was fast asleep.


	48. A Discovery

The hours passed slowly or quickly depending on how much progress Micro felt he was making on his program. There were several moments where it seemed like he was headed in the right direction only to find that nothing worked at all and he needed to start over. He also kept getting interrupted by alerts. He had streamlined his alert system to filter out only the standout ones but they kept pouring in. He’d glance at the camera that caused the alert but rarely managed to catch what was causing it. When he did see something it turned out to be something irrelevant. Like a random person making obscenities at the camera.

Frank alternated between soft snores and louder, scarier moans and mumblings. Usually it was a soft but terrified, “No.” Other times he’d call out for Karen.

Micro got up several times to do a couple of stretches next to his chair. He even made some ramen, having learned that regular noises like this didn't wake Frank up. Now if it had been a car backfiring, well, Micro didn’t want to think about how he would react to that.

Micro hadn’t told Frank this but in the early morning hours he had come across something that rang alarm bells. Any time an alert for unusual activity popped up the log would record the date, time, and the coordinates of the camera that caused the alert. Micro had spent the predawn hours mapping these coordinates out. There were points basically everywhere in Manhattan but they clustered in Hell’s Kitchen and in particular, they formed a pattern around Karen’s apartment and her workplace. 

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that Micro finally made some headway. He had rewritten his code yet again and was now going to test it. His test would simulate an alert and check if the code he had written took a screenshot. He sat back in his chair and waited for the test to run. It would take a minute. It wasn’t the most efficient test he had ever written. 

A moment later the test completed and passed. Micro sat upright. This was it. Now he just needed to wait for some alerts. He didn’t need to wait long.

Three alerts appeared on his screen one after the other. With every one his heart beat faster in his chest. Micro clicked on the images they had produced. When they appeared he froze and stared at them. 

He zoomed in and checked them again. 

His jaw dropped.


	49. Franklin "Foggy" Nelson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a few minor edits so that it fits with the timeline!

Foggy sat next to Karen in a yellow cab. They were on the way to the airport. She had her legs crossed, her top foot jittering nervously. It had rained that afternoon and the streets were still wet. The taxi’s windows were covered in rain droplets. 

A small screen in front of them was playing an obnoxious commercial featuring a popular late night comedy talk show host. The commercial was only a few minutes long and would repeat when it was over. He wished he could just shut it off.

He had taken off from work that day and had hung out with Karen at home. She had cooked him some nice mashed potatoes and mac and cheese, because that was all he had in the kitchen, and they had sat for a long time at the table reminiscing about the Nelson and Murdock days and remembering Matt.

Traffic was moving at a snail’s pace. For Foggy there was nothing worse than wanting to be somewhere and having to wait passively until you got there. 

He glanced at Karen. She was staring out the window, a forlorn expression on her face, her blonde hair flowing behind her. It made him think of Marci, whose blonde hair came from a bottle. 

He smiled thinking about the day he had first met Karen. She had been scared and incredibly beautiful and he had been thrilled when they had hired her. She had preferred Matt’s company, though, and Foggy had moved on, only a little heartbroken.

“You okay?” He asked her now.

Karen turned her pale blue eyes to him and nodded. “Yeah. Just nervous. I’m also a nervous flyer so I’m in for a treat,” she said, giving him a half smile.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be better once you’re out of the city,” he reassured her, patting her arm.

“I hope so.”

The truth was he was nervous too. Frankly, he was terrified. Pun intended. 

He couldn’t understand why Karen trusted Frank so much. She _literally_ trusted him with her life. True, Frank had never actually killed anyone _innocent_ and if he had it had been the result of a direct order, like when he had been in the army. Still though, he had _killed_. Isn’t that enough to make him a monster? Not only had he killed, he had killed dozens of times and in incredibly violent ways.

Foggy was also terrified of Russo. Afraid that all this careful planning and sneaking around would amount to nothing. That Russo was lurking behind every corner just waiting for the opportunity to snatch Karen up.

He didn’t express these concerns to her. She had plenty on her plate. He was good at hiding his fear anyway and he could tell that his calmness eased her mind. But boy oh boy, as soon as she was gone he was ready to blow off some real steam. He felt like he could run around the city like a headless chicken, screaming his lungs out.

Last night he had left the safety of his apartment and gone to pick up the beacon for Karen at the corner cafe. The whole process had scared him shitless. What if the beacon wasn’t there? What if the person who had delivered it had been intercepted? What if Russo was waiting for him there instead, with a gun, and demanded Foggy to take him to Karen?

He had walked to the cafe, full of nerves, trying to appear casual but instead he was completely aware of every single body part. His arms would be swinging too much so he'd stop but then they weren't swinging enough. Bigger steps, wait no, smaller. He was sure he had looked like he was completely losing it. It was hard to act natural when you were suddenly aware of all of your movements. 

When he arrived at the cafe he didn’t know which of the teenage baristas he was supposed to talk to. Was it the girl with blue hair ringing people up at the cash register? Was it the guy with tattoo sleeves mixing the drinks? The other guy with the long hair stocking the shelves?

He stood there nervously until the girl with blue hair interrupted his dilemma with an impatient voice, “Can I _help_ you?”

“Uh… I… maybe?” Foggy squeaked.

“I got it, Clarissa,” the guy with the tattoos said lazily, giving Foggy a half smile. He beckoned Foggy over to follow him behind the counter.

Clarissa gave them a look of confusion before turning to talk to the next customer in line.

Foggy followed the tattooed guy into the back office.

“Can I see your ID?” The guy asked him.

“Uh… yeah… okay,” Foggy took out his wallet and handed the guy his driver’s license.

The guy inspected it, holding it up to the light. He studied the photo and looked at Foggy’s face. 

He nodded, “Righteous. Here ya go,” he handed Foggy a small brown paper bag. 

The whole thing had played out like some kind of shady business transaction and it had lasted less than a minute. Foggy had saluted the guy ( _saluted!_ ) and marched out of the cafe with the brown bag in his coat pocket. 

The whole way home he had felt like he was carrying a bomb. It wasn’t until he reached the staircase leading up to his apartment that he finally exhaled, only to almost have a heart attack when Mrs. Millbury called out to him from her doorway as he walked by.

“Franklin, is that you?” She was standing in her doorway, wearing an actual nightcap like it was still the 19th century.

“Yes Mrs. Millbury, it’s just me,” he said, trying to hide the weariness in his voice. He paused on the steps.

“I saw you with a blonde girl earlier. She’s very pretty,” she said, peering at him through her coke bottle lenses.

“Yeah, Marci came over for a late lunch,” he said. He was desperate now to get back to his apartment.

“No, no. A different girl. With beautiful long hair…”

Foggy realized she was talking about Karen. “Oh. Yeah, that’s a friend of mine. She needed a place to stay so I offered her my guest room,” he said.

“You youngsters,” she laughed.

“Well, I really should get going,” he said before Mrs. Millbury could go on.

“Oh go ahead, honey. I’d like to meet that friend of yours if you ever get a chance. She kind of reminds me of-”

“Sure thing Mrs. Millbury,” Foggy interrupted, “Goodnight!”

After Mrs. Millbury shut her door he finally climbed the rest of the way to his apartment. 

Handing Karen that brown paper bag had been like throwing the ring into Mount Doom in Mordor. He couldn’t have been more relieved.

The cab pulled up to the domestic departures terminal at JFK airport fifteen minutes later. Foggy paid the cab driver and got out to help Karen with her luggage and accompany her inside.

The airport was ridiculously busy. It seemed like the entire city had decided to travel that evening. Foggy couldn’t blame them. He had half a mind to leave the craziness of New York City behind himself.

He rolled Karen’s suitcase behind him as they made their way to the self-service check-in kiosk. He stood next to her as she checked into her flight and printed her boarding pass. They headed towards the luggage check and he lifted her suitcase onto the carousel. 

“Geez, what did you pack in here? Dumbbells? Rocks?”

Karen laughed, “Mostly winter clothing. It’s snowing in Vermont.”

They walked slowly together towards the security check and stopped in front of it.

“Well,” said Karen.

“Well... good luck, Karen,” he said softly. 

Tears sprang to her eyes and she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you so much for everything, Foggy,” she whispered into his ear.

He held her and patted her back, “It’s going to be okay,” he said, “Call me as soon as you get there, okay?”

She let go and nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“Here,” he handed her a small pack of Kleenex he kept in his pocket. 

She laughed, “God, I’m a mess. Thanks,” She took the tissue and wiped the tears and snot away. 

She joined the security line and Foggy stood a little bit aways and watched, his hands in his pockets. She took out her passport and ticket and showed it to the security agent. The agent waved her through and she joined the long line of passengers. She turned back to look at Foggy and gave him a small wave. He smiled and waved back.

It took twenty minutes before she had gone all the way through security. He stayed there and waited the entire time. He wanted to make sure she got through safely. 

When she had finally gone through the body scanner and picked up her purse on the other side, she turned back one last time and waved at him with both arms in the air. He grinned and raised both his arms, waving back, like they were in a parade. She then turned and disappeared into the terminal.

Foggy sighed heavily. He really hoped she’d make it safely. 

The ride home was almost as slow as the ride to the airport. All he wanted to do was get back and go straight to bed. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Good night love. See you tomorrow <3_

It was Marci. He smiled and texted her back. 

When the taxi pulled up in front of his apartment building it was raining again. It was late and dark out. The streets were void of pedestrians. Foggy paid the cab driver and got out. The taxi sped away spraying him with water. Good ol’ New York, he thought, as he looked down at his shoes which were now soaked. 

Someone wrapped their arms around Foggy from behind and the unexpected contact sent a stab of fear through him. 

“Wha-” Foggy sputtered. Another person wearing a ski mask appeared in front of him. _Oh fuck, this is it._

“Nighty night,” the masked guy said and hit him across the head with the handle of a pistol. 

When he woke up he was laying on something cold. He could hear the faint sounds of a morning radio show. The stench of cigarettes hung in the air.

They had thrown him into the back of a van and bound his hands and feet together. They had also duct taped his mouth shut and pulled a hood over his head. They were now driving somewhere. Driving towards Foggy’s doom. 

Foggy let out a muffled scream. The two men in the front laughed. 

“He’s gonna love this,” one of them said.

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely getting a raise,” the other answered.

They had to be Russo’s men. So this is how I die, Foggy thought crazily. _Dear God, I hope Karen made it._

No matter what they did to him he wouldn’t break, he tried to tell himself. He wouldn’t talk and give Karen’s location away. They’d have to kill him first. Hell, they’d probably kill him anyway. He nearly pissed his pants at the thought. 

Something heavy fell on top of the roof of the van.

“What the fuck?” One of the men in the front exclaimed. 

The car veered to the right and Foggy rolled, crashing into the wall. The van came to an abrupt halt. He heard the car door open and one of the men getting out.

“Hey what-”

Foggy heard what he thought was the man being thrown against the side of the van.

“Jesus christ!” the driver yelled. The driver slammed on the gas and the van lurched forward. 

They were speeding down the roads now and flying over speed bumps which caused Foggy to be hurtled across the van’s rear.

Foggy heard a thud on the roof of the van again.

“FUCK!” The driver yelled out. 

He heard a yelp and a choking sound and he felt the van swerve to the left before coming to another screeching stop.

Foggy heard a struggle in the front cab. _Oh fuck, oh fuck._ He fumbled with the rope in his hands but they had bounded him too tightly. He tried to roll into a kneeling position but the rope around his feet were too tight too. He laid there uselessly like a turtle flipped over on its back and waited for his impending doom. 

He heard what sounded like a body drop outside and the slam of a dumpster lid. Then there was silence. The only sound came from the rain drops hitting the roof. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. He blinked hard, trying not to cry.

He heard the back door of the van open and he let out a whimper. An arm reached out as Foggy attempted to crawl away as far as possible. A hand grabbed him and Foggy squirmed. The hand pulled the hood off Foggy’s head and ripped the duct tape off his mouth.

“Argh,” Foggy cried out. It felt like the tape had ripped off the top layer of his skin.

He squinted up at the person in front of him and blinked hard, not believing what he was seeing.

“Matt?” He whispered.


	50. Vermont

Karen walked down the aisle on the airplane behind a mother holding her toddler. The toddler stared at Karen with wide innocent brown eyes. He held out his tiny hand and Karen smiled forgetting about her worries for a brief moment. She waved at him. The baby let out a laugh and reached his arm out to her. Karen was about to shake his hand when the mother turned and sat down in a seat. Karen walked past them and continued towards the back of the plane.

Her seat was all the way in the last row. A middle seat in a row right next to the lavatory. That’s what you get for booking so last minute she thought to herself. Still she was grateful to finally be getting out of the city.

When she arrived there was already someone sitting in the aisle seat. An older man with an unkempt white beard. He got up to let her sit and she thanked him, placing her purse under the seat in front of her. Only a few moments later they both had to get up again when a young acne-ridden teenage boy showed up to sit in the window seat. He wore headphones and didn’t speak to either of them.

The airplane jolted to a start and the flight attendants began to robotically demonstrate the safety procedures.

Karen took methodical breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She clasped her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes.

“Nervous?” A gentle voice said next to her.

Karen opened her eyes and looked at the old man, “Yes… Yes, I hate flying.”

The man smiled and shook his head, “You know, I read that statistically you’re much more likely to die in a car accident than you are in an airplane crash,” he said.

Karen didn’t know whether she should feel comforted or scared.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. It hasn’t really helped ease my fears,” she admitted.

“Well, the flight is only an hour long,” the man continued, “And we’ll all be with you the whole way.” He waved his hand around to indicate the rest of the passengers. He smiled kindly at her 

“That does make me feel a little better,” she said, returning his smile.

The airplane arrived at the takeoff strip and began to hum loudly as it sped up. When it took off Karen could feel her chest tightening as she was pressed into the back of her seat. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists and waited until the airplane levelled off.

“See, that wasn’t so bad. Now it’s just smooth sailing from here,” the man said, winking at her.

The airplane glided in the air and pretty soon the flight attendants were coming around and handing out drinks.

“I’ll have a scotch,” she said, deciding she needed to ease her nerves, “On the rocks.”

The old man chuckled, “I’ll have one too.”

They got their drinks and the man held his up, “Cheers!”

They touched their plastic cups together and Karen drank it all in one go, the alcohol burning her throat as it went down. She could feel the effects within a few minutes. She hadn’t had anything to eat since the mac and cheese and mashed potatoes at Foggy’s. She sighed, feeling a little more relaxed already.

The further she got away from New York City the more relieved she began to feel and before she knew it, the plane was beginning its descent. 

She glanced out the window and looked out at the grid of bright lights that made up Vermont’s largest city. It had been a long time since she had been back. In fact, she hadn’t returned since she had moved to New York City, and that was over six years ago.

She rarely spoke to her parents, claiming she was too busy with work. In a way this was true. She lived her life at breakneck speed over there and there was hardly a moment to sit down and relax. 

She’d email them every now and then, reassuring them that everything was fine. She knew they read her articles religiously. She knew that they worried about her living in the big city. That dangerous place they’d visited only once. She wouldn’t admit it to them but they were right to be worried. If they knew the real reason she was coming they’d never let her out of their sight again.

Of course, she hadn’t actually told them she was coming. They would have made a huge fuss over it. Her mom probably would’ve sent someone out to the airport to pick her up or worse, they would have flown someone all the way to JFK just to escort her on the flight over there. They knew about her fear of flying.

Besides, the fewer people who knew she was headed for Vermont, the better. The last thing she wanted to do was put her parents in any danger.

The Page family came from a long line of wealth and Karen had grown up privileged and not wanting for anything. Her great grandfather had made a fortune in shipping and railroad industries. Her father was a renowned scientist and her mother a homemaker and socialite. 

Her parents lived in a large victorian mansion just outside of Burlington. During Karen’s childhood and adolescence they had been constantly busy, entertaining guests or going to lavish parties. Karen and her brother Kevin had been raised by their nanny and butler. Her earliest memories involved playing games with them or following them around and helping them as they went about doing chores around the house

After Kevin’s death her parents had blamed themselves. They should have been there, they’d say. Being so absent from their lives had done them no good. All at once they had found themselves left with only one child. One they barely even knew.

They began to hover over Karen’s shoulder. Supervising her dates, having someone take her to school and pick her up, constantly nagging at her about everything. They had basically forbidden her to have a life of her own.

So she had rebelled. And she had gone off the deep end. In her father’s words she had “brought shame to the family name.” Those words had cut deep. 

Deep enough that she had packed a bag and left in the middle of the night to try her luck in Manhattan. To start over.

They had tracked her down immediately. Found out she lived in a shitty neighborhood and had a shitty job. They had offered to give her money, a trust fund. They knew people. They could help her get a _real_ job. But she had refused. If she was going to make it, she was going to make it all on her own.

When she didn’t come back home they had begged. Her father had apologized to her and many tears had been shed. But by that time she had built a new life in New York and she wasn’t going to just leave it behind.

She wondered how they would react now when she showed up on their doorstep.

The airplane landed with a little thud and they taxied into their gate. 

As they walked off the aircraft the old man turned to her one last time and said, “Have a wonderful trip!”

“Thank you, you too!” She said cheerfully and waved goodbye.

She waited at the baggage claim area until she saw her enormous black suitcase emerge from the bowels of the airport. She grabbed it and hauled it to the ground. She rolled it behind her and made her way to the exit. 

She was hit with a cold blast of air as soon as she stepped outside. It was freezing. The kind of cold that bit at your face. She cursed. Where was her scarf?

She hurried to the parking garage and took the elevator up to the top floor, shivering the whole way. The car she had reserved was a small red honda fit. 

After getting the keys, she heaved her suitcase into the back and got in. She blasted the heater and sat warming up before beginning the drive. She sent a quick text to Foggy telling him she had arrived safely and would call him when she got to her house.

It was only when the airport disappeared from her rearview mirror that she finally let out a loud sigh of relief. She laughed wildly, releasing all the pent up nerves that had been building up inside of her.

She had made it.

She switched on the radio and tuned it to a station playing pop music. She turned up the volume and sang along as she drove, bobbing her head to the beat, her hair falling over her shoulders.

There were patches of snow scattered about the city. They had received an inch of snow and it was supposed to snow again that night. Karen drove carefully through the quiet streets. She seemed to be the only one out.

It got darker as she drove further away from the city. Woods flanked both sides of the highway and she couldn’t see beyond what her headlights illuminated. She lowered the volume on the radio and slowed down a little. Why did her parents have to live in the middle of nowhere? She suddenly remembered how scary country life could be. The constant noise in New York City was a comfort to her. Here it was just way too quiet. So quiet it seemed like any sound you heard couldn’t be an accident.

Another pair of headlights appeared in her rearview mirror and she felt a little relieved for the company. She glanced at them but they had their brights on and it was blinding. She could hear the roar of the car’s engine, they were driving way too fast given the icy conditions.

Karen waited for them to pass her but they didn’t. She glanced in the mirror again and saw that they were now tailgating her. Their car was so close to her they were almost on top of her. Panic gripped her and she sped up just a little. The car behind her sped up too.

_Shit._

“You’re much more likely to die in a car accident than you are in an airplane crash,” the old man’s voice spoke to her in her memory. She shook it off and took a long drawn out inhale.

The car behind her switched lanes and drove up next to her. They were neck and neck now. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Karen burst out. She let off on the gas a little and the car overtook hers, accelerating even more and leaving her behind.

She let out all the air in her lungs in relief.

“It was nothing,” She muttered. Just some crazy Vermonter who thinks they don’t need to slow down on the icy roads. Nothing at all to do with Billy Russo or anything related to Hell’s Kitchen. She rolled her shoulders back and tried to relax into her seat again. But her heart continued to beat rapidly against her chest and her eyes kept glancing at the rearview mirror expecting to see Russo himself chasing her.

The woods fell away and she was now driving along long stretches of farm fields. They were covered in a thin blanket of snow. It was beautiful and serene. A stark contrast from the slushy brown crap New York snow would turn into after a while. 

Stars were scattered along the dark sky and the moon was full. It had been a long time since she had seen so many of them. 

She drove past a small town center and turned off into a cul de sac. The houses here were large and spread out. They loomed ahead of her, dark and probably empty, their owners having flown down to their homes in Florida or the Caribbean to escape the winter.

The house she had grown up in stood at the end of the street. It towered over the others and contained more rooms and bathrooms than a four person family could ever need. It’s archways and shingles a varying shade of purple. It had a large wraparound porch with a rocking swing chair that no one had used in years. A light layer of snow covered the sloping and slanting roofs. 

The house had always looked kind of eerie from the outside, like a storybook haunted house. But Karen knew that inside it was warm and familiar and not scary at all.

She parked her car in the driveway and got out deciding she’d come back for her suitcase after she had greeted her parents. The house was dark and silent. Her parents were probably asleep or possibly at a party. Karen hesitated, thinking maybe she’d sneak in through the back door so as not to startle them if they were home.

She heard a crackling sound behind her but before she could turn around to look an ice cold bare hand covered her mouth and an arm wrapped around her body.

“Surprise,” a gruff voice said in her ear.

Karen let out a muffled scream and began to wriggle violently in his grasp. 

“Whoa ho! You’re stronger than you look,” the voice said, his breath hot against her skin. 

Remembering a tip she had learned at a self defense class, she lifted her foot and stomped her heel into the toe cap of the man’s boot. 

“ARGH!” The man yelled, his grip loosening. 

She bit down on his hand hard.

“Ow! FUCK!” The man wrenched his hand away. 

She began to run towards the house, fumbling with her purse before remembering she had been in an airplane and of course she had left her gun behind at Foggy’s, hidden at the bottom of the night table in the guest room.

“Shit,” she cried. 

“Fucking bitch!” She heard behind her. She hurried up the porch steps and turned the door knob. It was locked. 

She turned to look at the person chasing her. He was standing at the bottom of the porch steps, a sick grin on his face, “Nowhere to go now, huh? Why don’t ya just come with me. I’ll go easy on ya… I promise,” he said, taking a step forward.

Karen bolted along the porch towards the side of the house. 

“So you wanna do this the hard way, huh?” She heard the guy scream behind her, his shoes pounding on the wooden floor.

She scrambled around the corner. The heel of her boot caught between the wood paneling, tripping her. She sprawled onto the ground. The man laughed and slowed to a walk, stopping right in front of her. 

“You’re done now,” he muttered.

Karen looked up at him. There was a fire in her eye that took him off guard. That moment of hesitation was all she needed. She kicked up with her free leg and hit him right in the groin. The man crumpled letting out a high pitched yelp. 

She wrenched her other foot free and stood up. 

“Fuck you,” she said, before she gave his head a swift kick, as though it were a soccer ball. The man’s head snapped back and he collapsed onto the ground unconscious. 

Karen shakily took out her cell phone and began to dial 911.

“Hold it!”

She looked up, straight into the barrel of a gun. She raised her hands up over her head, the cell phone clattering to the ground.


	51. Back from the Dead

Matt paced around his own living room in his skin tight Daredevil suit. He had taken off the mask, and his hair stuck out wildly in all directions. Foggy sat on the leather couch and watched him, still unable to believe that Matt was actually there. Alive.

Foggy had abandoned the idea of returning to his apartment. It was probably being watched. They might even be waiting to jump him again. Matt had brought him back to his place in Hell’s Kitchen which he somehow still owned. 

“You can stay here,” Matt had said. 

It was kind of like being roommates again. Except Matt had died and now he was suddenly back and how the hell was he, Foggy, going to cope with all of this?

“Matt,” Foggy whispered. Matt continued to pace.

“Matt,” he raised his voice, “Stop!”

Matt stopped pacing and turned to face him, “Sorry. I’m just… sorry, I’ll stop.” He sat in the chair across from Foggy and looked at him. The moonlight shone through the apartment’s two large windows, casting squares onto the hardwood floors and furniture. Dust particles floated in the air between them. 

Foggy decided to get right down to it.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice wavering on the word dead. He could feel a lump in his throat. He swallowed and blinked back tears but he knew it was no use. It was hard to hide feelings from Matt. It was hard to hide anything from him.

“I thought I was too,” Matt said, lowering his head.

“For six fucking months, Matt. We had a funeral and everything,” Foggy burst out. “I grieved! I went through the five stages of grief, for fuck’s sake. I never even made it to stage five.”

He was rambling now, he knew, but the words wouldn’t stop coming.

“Karen just about lost herself,” he continued.

At that, Matt raised his head sharply. There were tears rolling down his face. One of them broke off and fell to the floor. 

“She was _destroyed_ when you died. She refused to see me for a long time. She buried herself in work. She…” Foggy stopped. He didn’t want to betray Karen’s trust.

“I know,” Matt choked. He wiped at his eyes.

“You _know_? What do you mean you know?”

“I… saw,” he said. Foggy stared at him dumbfounded.

“I’ve been tracking you two. Making sure you were safe.”

Foggy took a minute to process this new information.

“How long?” He hissed.

“About a month.”

“A _month_!? And you never once thought that you should tell us you were alive?” Foggy stood up, completely outraged. He grabbed his coat off the couch armrest.

“Foggy, you can’t leave,” Matt said wearily, “They’ll find you. They’re looking for you right now as we speak.”

Foggy put on his coat stubbornly but sat back down on the couch. 

“I’ll tell you everything Foggy. All of it. Just promise me you’ll stay here until we get these guys.”

Foggy crossed his arms and shrugged, “Fine. Start.”

Matt let out a long shaky sigh and began.


	52. Matthew Murdock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING If you haven't read the comics, there is a spoiler in this chapter and the next. I've read some of the comics but not all of them and not the one that has to deal with this part of Matt's story. So the things that I'm writing are still just ideas that I've had and if they match storylines in the comics, it's a coincidence :D

_Six months earlier_

He woke to the sounds of a soothing and strangely familiar woman’s voice.

“He’s awake,” she whispered. There was delight in her words.

His eyes flickered open and his senses slowly began to return to him. He could smell antiseptic and starch and another sweet and earthy scent. He could hear footsteps and voices, so many voices, singing in unison on the other side of whatever building he was in. 

“Holy God, we praise Thy Name,  
Lord of all, we bow before Thee…”

He tried to focus on just his immediate surroundings but found it difficult to concentrate. Besides the voices he could hear the haunting tones of an organ echoing in a vast room, the scratching of pencil on paper, whispers in prayers of his childhood. 

A hand was clasping his. The skin was thin and etched with large veins. The hand was small and delicate. The heartbeat rapid in anticipation.

He tried to speak but only coughed which sent a searing pain through his torso.

“Shhh… shhh, “ the woman said. She held a glass of water to his lips and he sipped. He hadn’t noticed until he drank but his throat had been as dry as dust.

Another woman pricked his arm with a needle and moments later he was asleep again.

He dreamed of everyone he had ever known. His father, the bullies who had taunted him at school, beating him against the chain link fence. He dreamed of Foggy and Elektra, of Wilson Fisk and Frank Castle. They all passed before him, engaging him in different ways.

Then he had dreamt of Karen. Of her glow warming him like the sun on a beautiful spring day. Of her voice which melted in his ears like butter. Her hand on his as she guided him around, before she had known the truth. The feel of her every pore sending tiny jolts of electricity through him. The sound of her rapid heartbeat whenever they were together, his own matching hers. He could feel himself smiling. He could stay this way forever.

But instead he woke again with the sun’s rays shining on him. The happiness he felt while dreaming lingered. He savored it before it disappeared and he remembered his betrayal. Remembered the pain in her voice when she had asked him to leave.

He was strangely alert now. It was warm and his sheets were damp. 

_Where am I?_

Nothing seemed familiar. He sensed he was laying on a cot. There were bandages wrapped around his torso and head. He could feel his body was bruised seemingly everywhere. It hurt to swallow. The table next to him was bare and there was no one else in the room.

“He- Hello?”

The effort sent him into a coughing fit that exacerbated the pain in his torso.

Rapid footsteps and the rustling of a long gown approached him. The sweet earthy scent had returned.

“Here,” she said in a soft voice. She held a glass of water to his lips. He gulped it down, the water feeling cool against his dry throat.

“Oh, oh, slow down. Not too fast.”

She took the water away from.

“Who are you?”

The woman sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand in his. Her heartbeat sped up slightly and he could hear tears welling up in her eyes. But when she spoke, she sounded assured, as though she were trying to hide her emotions.

“You may call me Sister... Maggie.” The slightest of pauses.

_Sister Maggie... Maggie._

A memory of his father flashed before him. Sitting in his favorite armchair, drunk, staring at a black and white photograph that he kept in his wallet.

“Oh Maggie,” he would sob before Matt would come in and help him to bed.

“Sister Maggie,” he whispered.

“Yes, that’s right. You’ve had quite a beating, you know.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He instead listened to her heartbeat. It had slowed somewhat. They were holding hands and he could feel the pulse through them. Their hearts beat together in a strange symphony. Hers louder than his and more rapid. 

Her palms were sheened in sweat. Her scent recalling memories of times long gone. Events he couldn’t possible remember. He would have been too young. 

His memory brought forth a woman with long brown hair flowing over her shoulders in waves, hovering over him, a concerned expression on her face before fading away.

“Where am I?”

“You are in a convent,” she said, she hesitated before adding, “in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Matt tried to remember where he had been before this. He had been at battle, yes. And it had ended with him and Elektra in an embrace as a building collapsed around them.

“How did I get here?”

“Someone brought you and left you at our doorstep.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know,” she shrugged.

“Was it just me?”

The woman nodded, “Yes.”

Matt inhaled sharply. He wondered if Elektra had made it out. He hoped she had. He felt a lump in his throat.

“How long have I been here?” 

“About six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” He asked not believing. 

“Yes.”

Six weeks had passed since that battle. 

He tried to get up, “I need to go. My friends-”

The woman put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. It was just as well. Just the effort of sitting up had put him in a dizzy spell. 

He allowed her to to place a cool cloth on his forehead.

“There will be time for that later. You need rest. You need to heal.”

He sensed that she meant more than just physically.

He closed his eyes and she placed the cool cloth on them. The weight of it relaxed him. 

“What is your name young man?” She asked. He could feel her wringing her hands.

“Matthew. Matthew Murdock,” he whispered, knowing she knew the answer.


	53. Daredevil

Months passed and Matt remained at the nunnery regaining his strength. The nuns whispered about him. Saying he was blessed by God. Blessed with the ability to see without sight.

They allowed him to stay in the sickroom and when he was physically able they gave him chores to do. Most of them janitorial. He did them without complaint, appreciating the feel of hard work. It was also a good distraction from his thoughts.

He joined them in prayer several times a day. And ate simple meals of oats, rice, and meats. He spent a lot of time in solitude. A lot of time without speaking. Though he could still hear a pin drop a mile away, and all of the raucous in between, it was the most peaceful he had felt in a long time. 

He had figured out quickly that Sister Maggie was actually his mother though she never actually told him. He could _feel_ it. He could hear it in the tone of her voice. In the change of her body temperature when they were together. In the sadness that radiated from her when she watched him. In the way he could feel her heartbeat as though it were his own.

He didn’t know why she didn’t want to talk about it and had decided not to ask. Instead he relished the moments he spent with her. Sharing a kinship she wouldn’t admit to outloud. It felt good to be nursed and mothered back to health.

After he had been there for a few weeks he asked her if he could feel her face. He wanted to get a sense of what she looked like. They were sitting on a bench that overlooked the convent’s back lawn. Huddles of nuns glided over it, heading to the kitchens or to bible lessons. Matthew heard the rustling of their gowns. He felt their eyes glancing at him and his mother.

“You may,” she said, her voice sounding far away.

He reached out with his hands and she placed them on either side of her face. He let his fingers run over her features. Her arched and full eyebrows and the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes. Her long and thin nose and deep laugh lines. Her prominent jaw line and thin lips. The features that he saw in the woman in his memory. Only now they were aged. 

She had been holding her breath and he lowered his hands. She exhaled. If there had been any doubt in his mind before, it was definitely gone now. 

When he had fully healed he began to train again. Working on regaining the strength he had lost. Every day he’d push himself, rain or shine. In the beginning it had been difficult, and he could barely manage a single push up. But his strength returned more quickly than he had expected it to. Almost like his body had been ready before his mind had been.

After he had been there for several months, Sister Maggie gave him a pair of sunglasses and a white cane.

“You should start going out into the city, Matthew,” she said.

Matt had been tuning out the outside noise for quite some time now. He was afraid. Afraid of what he might hear. He had come to the conclusion that his friends were probably better off without him. Convinced himself that they would be safer if they thought he was dead.

Despite this he knew he couldn’t stay there forever. The outside world was beginning to pull at him and it was about time he relented.

It was winter when he finally decided to venture outside. It was an overcast and windy morning. He had decided he would walk around the block once before returning. 

As soon as he stepped through the large wooden double doors, the noises came rushing to his ears. It was like standing underneath a waterfall, the sounds blending together in a harsh cacophony. 

Matthew steadied himself against his cane. Letting the noise reach him, picking individual sounds apart.

“What’s that guy doing?” A whisper.

A news report blaring on a television set a mile away.

The caws of seagulls and waves crashing onto the shore.

“And then he just left, you know what I mean? He just packed up and left…”

“Oye! Por aqui!”

Car horns blaring.

Footsteps sounding together like a stampede.

“New York Bulletin, One dolla! New York Bulletin, get your copy!”

Matthew raised his head. The last voice was coming from the corner of the street. Before he could stop and consider, he tapped his cane and made his way over there. 

“One copy of the New York Bulletin, please,” he said, handing the man behind the newstand a one dollar bill. The man handed him a paper, raising his eyebrow. 

“This ain’t in braille, y’know.” 

“It’s for … my mother. Thank you,” Matt said, and tapped his way back to the convent.

He headed back to his room, trying to look like he wasn’t in a hurry. When he got there he spread the newspaper out on the bedspread. With his fingers he scanned the typeface for her name. When he found it he read the headline.

“Authorities Capture Mastermind Behind Illegal Military Operation”

He read the article. Then read it again. He flopped onto the bed. 

And just like that a hunger inside of him was awakened. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know what had been going on during his absence because clearly, things had been happening. Important things. Horrible things.

He began to spend more and more time away from the convent. Traveling further and further every time. He began to go out at night and fly through the rooftops. 

Back in his element he felt free. He felt _alive_.

His time away didn’t go unnoticed and one evening Sister Maggie came to him with a key.

“The key to your apartment, Matthew Murdock.”

He didn’t ask her how she had come to possess it. He only took it from her and knew his time there was done.

“The door is always open, Matthew,” she said, as he walked out of the double doors

That was when he began tracking Foggy and Karen. 

The first time he saw her again had caught him off guard. Her voice had stood out amongst the din of the city, as clear as day. As smooth as silk.

“No, not tonight. I have work to do.”

The sound sent a shiver down his spine. He flew across rooftops until he reached the street where her voice had come from. 

And there she was. 

He was overwhelmed with the scent of citrus and lavender and something else unique to her. Something that made him think of warmth and happiness. She had a glowing aura about her. Like a single light in all of the darkness of the city. In all of the darkness in his life.

She was talking on her cell phone and she was on her way home from work. 

“Are you sure, Karen?” He heard Foggy’s voice through the cell phone.

“I’m sure.”

She hung up and let out a shaky sigh that travelled up into his ears and down to his heart.

He watched her go home, work, sleep, only to get up the next day and do the same thing over again. On the weekends she would stay home and hardly leave the house. He could hear the rustling of paper and the soft sobs of her crying through her walls. 

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to so badly. But he didn’t know how. How do you come back from the dead?

Then one night she had accepted Foggy’s invitation to go out to Josie’s. Matt had hung out on the rooftop and listened in. Karen sounded happier than she had in a long time though he could feel the heat from her blushing and the change in the air as her hands trembled in her lap. One of Foggy’s friends had taken a liking to her, and he listened to them talk to each other, their voices carrying the sounds of mutual attraction. 

He had heard a drunken man approach her, stinking of cigarettes and body odor. He had heard the fear in Karen’s voice but before he could make any kind of move there was a loud smack, the sounds of a body dropping to the floor, and screams. He heard Karen’s heartbeat accelerate even more and two sets of footsteps run out of the bar. He followed them.

That was the night he found out Frank Castle was still alive. 

He listened to Frank talk about Karen to the man with him. He heard the affection in his voice, sensed the change in his pulse. He could feel Frank’s pupil’s enlarging slightly. 

Matt knew long before Frank even suspected it.

The next day he visited the library and read every past issue of the New York Bulletin from the past several months. He read about the group of marines that would go around illegally assassinating targets. About the war veteran who planted bombs around the city and then took Karen hostage. About how she had somehow been spared. 

It had been that day that she had seen him on the street. He had forgotten that the library was close to her workplace and hadn’t expected her to be out at lunch time. 

He had left the library, his mind swimming with all of the information he had just read. She had called to him from across the street, bewilderment and hope in her voice. He had kept walking and ignored it. Upon turning a corner he had bolted into an alleyway and climbed up to a rooftop. Listened to her sobbing on the street. Longing to hold her but knowing he could not.

That night he sat on a rooftop across from her apartment, listening to her and Frank. Heard the warmth and familiarity when they were together. Like two old friends enjoying each other’s company. He could feel both of their heartbeats, increasing whenever they looked into each other’s eyes. After a while he left. The experience being too painful. 

When he heard the news of Russo’s escape he decided he would continue to watch over her and Foggy. 

He nearly ran into Frank Castle several times while out on his escapades. Castle had even tracked him once, before losing the trail.

Just last night he had followed Castle into an alleyway, where Castle had been threatening one of Russo’s men. It had been Matt who had caused the diversion with the car. Trying to decrease the amount of blood being shed in this horrible nightmare.

“I want to help,” he said now to Foggy. “I want to help catch Russo," he finished, feeling lighter. It was a relief to have told someone about the past several months.

Foggy had remained silent throughout Matt’s recount. He stared into space, his face contorting into all kinds of expressions: surprise, confusion, sadness, anger.

“You met your mom,” he said finally.

Matt let out a little laugh, “Yeah. I met my mom.”

“Why didn’t you ask her about it?”

Matt sighed, “I think I’m afraid to know the truth.”

Foggy nodded feeling sorry for his old friend. 

“God, I can’t ever stay mad at you, Matt,” he said after a short pause.

Matt smiled through his tears.

“I don’t know how you do it. But you always reel me right back in.”

Matt looked down at his hands feeling he didn’t deserve Foggy’s forgiveness but wanting it all the same. 

Foggy got up from the sofa, “Come on, get up.”

“Wha?”

Foggy grabbed his arm and pulled him up from his seated position, wrapping his arms around him and patting his back hard.

“Friends?”

It was more than Matt could have hoped for. 

“Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed. I also hope I can keep this pace up for next week :D <3


	54. The Red Problem

“Red.”

Frank rubbed his forehead and looked again.

He was looking over Micro’s shoulder at the images the program had captured. 

It was Daredevil. Daredevil leaping over buildings. Daredevil climbing across brick walls. Daredevil perched in the shadows overlooking Karen’s apartment. Daredevil, Daredevil, Daredevil.

“Jesus Christ.”

“You know this guy?” Micro asked him, studying the images.

Frank snorted, “Yeah, I know this guy,” he pointed his finger at an image of Daredevil mid leap, “This motherfucker thinks he's some kind of superhero. He goes around capturing bad guys and throws them in jail. He thinks everyone deserves a second chance. That everyone can be redeemed. He was a real pain in the ass when I was going after the people who killed my family. Trying to prevent me from killing them, as if these people deserve another chance at life. Well, you know what I have to say to that?”

Micro sucked in his lips and waited.

“FUCK THAT. That’s what.”

Micro closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I let Russo go and look what happened! He’s out and picking up right where he left off. Going after my fa-”

Frank stopped. Micro raised his eyebrow at him.

“Going after the people I care about,” Frank continued, he sat down on the edge of the bed, “There’s no saving guys like Russo. Guys like him are fucked up inside. They need to be eliminated. Permanently.”

Frank put his head in his hands. His mind raced with the implications of Daredevil’s apparent resurrection. He thought of Karen. Who for the past who knows how many months had been mourning his death. Alone.

“I bet he’s the guy who stopped me last night,” Frank said, looking at Micro, “I’d bet money on that.”

Micro bit the inside of his cheek. He turned back to the image on the screen.

“Red, huh?”

“He calls himself Daredevil.” _He’s supposed to be dead_.

“Well, this Daredevil,” Micro said, holding up air quotes, “has been keeping a really close eye on Karen.” He pulled up the map with the plotted sightings of Daredevil and showed it to Frank.

Frank got up and looked over Micro’s shoulder, “What’s this?” He said in a low voice.

“This,” Micro said, pointing at the pins on the map, “is where Daredevil has been spotted by the security cameras.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Frank. 

Frank stared at the map. Most of the pins surrounded Karen’s building, her work building, and Foggy’s apartment. There was a single pin right on top of Frank’s own apartment building. Frank shook his head.

“How far back does this go?”

“Only the last couple of days, unfortunately. Took me a while to fine tune this system I’ve got going on here,” Micro sighed.

“That son of a bitch,” Frank said. He turned to the overhead cabinet and violently took out the french press mug and coffee grounds, “Red needs to stay out of my fucking way,” He snarled, stomping over to the sink.

“Okay, easy Frank. You’re shaking the entire van,” Micro said. He turned back to the image of Daredevil on the screen, “You say he’s a superhero, right?” 

“Yeah, so what?” Frank said, putting water on the hot plate to boil.

“So, what kind of powers does he have?”

“Huh?”

“Superheroes have powers,” Micro rolled his eyes, “What’s this guy’s superpower?”

“Hmph,” Frank grunted, stalling.

Frank had known about Matthew Murdock’s alter ego almost from the minute he had met him. In fact, he had thought the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself had come and found him at the hospital until he had opened his eyes and had seen a blind lawyer standing in front of him. 

Looking back now it had been pretty obvious. The way Murdock and Daredevil’s lip curled slightly when they spoke. That air of superiority that followed them wherever they went. Even the way they fucking walked. Daredevil’s fucking voice was just Murdock trying to speak at an octave lower than his natural voice. It was almost funny.

Frank had noticed Murdock’s absence during his trial. He had noticed the bruises he tried to cover up with his long sleeves and high collar. An alcoholic? No, Frank had never bought that story. For one thing, Murdock never smelled like alcohol. His hands never shook in withdrawal.

But for some reason everyone around Murdock had no clue. Not even his closest friends had suspected it. 

Frank and Murdock may disagree with each other on nearly everything. They may come from completely different backgrounds. Murdock may even have a problem with lying to people but Frank found that he couldn’t help but respect the guy a little. No matter what, Murdock stood by what he believed in. And he fought for those he loved. They at least had that in common. 

Murdock preferred to keep his superhero identity a secret from the public. Frank didn’t know why nor did he care but he didn’t want to be the one spreading the news about his true identity to the world. No one would be hearing Daredevil was actually a blind man named Matthew Murdock. Not from Frank Castle.

“Red’s senses are magnified. He can hear things that a normal human ear could never possibly hear. He can sense movements even before they occur. He can smell everything and differentiate between different scents. He’s a hundred thousand times better at tracking just by using scent than a fuckin’ bloodhound. If he wanted to, he could probably zero in on our conversation right now,” Frank said. 

“Wow. That’s pretty amazing,” Micro zoomed in on Daredevil’s face.

“Yeah… I guess,” Frank shrugged.

Micro flipped through the different screenshots his alerts had captured. They flashed on the screen, Daredevil moving in increments like a stop motion picture.

“So, he’s really strong and fast too, right?” Micro asked, not turning away from the monitor.

“Yeah,” Frank admitted, “He’s a worthy opponent.”

“Impressive.”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Well, if you’re done being a fanboy over here-”

“No… I’m just thinking,” Micro interrupted him, sitting back in his chair, “You say Daredevil likes to interfere with you killing people, right?”

Frank raised his eyebrow and nodded.

“Well, we need to figure out a way to use his superpower senses against him.”

“Okay...”

They sat in silence while they thought. Frank sipped the coffee he had made. The smell wafting through the van and out the vent in the roof. 

“Hey, what about this thing?” Frank grabbed his pack and took out the EMP generator Leo had given him and handed it to Micro.

Micro examined it and then carefully pried it open to inspect the interior.

“Where did you get this?”

“Uh…”

“These look like parts taken right out of my workshop,” Micro said, holding the device up to the light.

Frank sighed, there was no use in lying about it, “Leo gave it to me.”

“Leo _what_?”

“Now, David, it was a gift and-”

Frank stopped. Micro was shaking his head and chuckling softly. He wiped at his eye with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“She’s just like me,” he said, almost to himself.

Frank watched Micro beaming as he scrutinized Leo’s handiwork. He half smiled feeling happy for Micro and tried to ignore the terrible emptiness that was creeping up on him. He wondered what kind of girl his daughter would have grown up to be. If she would have taken more after him or Maria. If she would have been friends with Leo. 

Frank coughed. “So, would that work?” He asked, pushing his melancholy aside and turning away.

“This thing will fry any electrical devices within at least five feet of you. I could rig it to have a wider range and it could work on larger and more secure devices… Yeah… we could gain access to-”

“That sounds great, Lieberman, really. But what about Red?” Frank interrupted him. He could see Micro was running away with the possibilities of Leo’s work but he had to bring him back to the real problem they were facing.

“Right. Yeah. Don’t worry about him,” Micro waved his hand, ”I have an idea.”

At that moment the laptop let out a bunch of beeping noises one after the other. Micro turned to his laptop and typed in a few key words. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What is it?” Frank asked, watching Micro.

“It’s that lawyer friend of Karen’s,” Micro said, placing his hand over his mouth.

Frank jumped up from the bed and looked over Micro’s shoulder. The monitor that was pointed at Foggy’s apartment building was showing Foggy being dragged by two men with ski masks into a white van. 

Frank immediately turned around and opened the cabinet, grabbing guns and ammo and loading them into his bag, “Micro, start the car!”

Micro didn’t move. The computer began to beep again.

“Frank, wait!” 

Frank stopped and looked at the monitor again. The new alerts had picked up Daredevil already on the scene.

“It’s that Daredevil guy!” Micro said excitedly. He sat up straighter in his chair and typed on the laptop. The monitors changed to show cameras along Foggy’s street. They watched as the white van turned a corner and Daredevil followed behind them, flying over rooftops and out of view.

Micro typed something quickly and all of the monitors changed to show different angles of the street the van had turned onto.

They watched as Daredevil soared from one of the buildings right onto the van.

“Oh shit!” Micro said, clapping both hands to his mouth. Frank put his hands on his knees and leaned in closer to the monitors. 

They watched Daredevil beat the first guy unconscious and throw him behind a dumpster. They watched him cock his head, listen, and then scale up a building as quick as a spider. Micro switched the monitors again and they were now watching the van careening down another street. When Daredevil leaped onto the van again Micro let out a little cheer as if he were watching a football game and his team had scored.

Frank observed as Daredevil helped Foggy out of the back of the van and they left the scene and disappeared out of view. He turned to look at his guns that were still laying on the bed.

“Well, I guess you’re not needed,” Micro said, still dizzy with excitement.

Frank’s jaw clenched and he shrugged, “He left those guys alive. They’ll be back. I need to go clean up his mess,” he muttered.

Micro held back a smile. Frank turned his head sharply and looked at him. Micro turned away and pretended to type something.

“Where are they headed?” Frank asked, changing the subject.

“It looks like they’re going to Hell’s Kitchen,” Micro said, following Foggy and Daredevil on one of the monitors. They were moving through the alleyways and the shadows, avoiding being seen by anyone.

“That means Karen probably already left town,” Micro added. 

“Good,” Frank said, turning back to his gear. He took out a large duffel bag and began to pack it with ammo. 

Russo’s men had figured out where Karen had been hiding. It was only a matter time before they figured out where she had gone. He needed to move quickly.

“So, what’s your idea for keeping Red outta my way?”


	55. Sensory Overload

Matt and Foggy sat around Matt’s coffee table digging into Thai takeout. Matt still had on his Daredevil suit, intending to go out again after eating. Foggy had removed his coat again and changed into a pair of Matt’s sweats and an old Columbia t-shirt.

Foggy stared at Matt as they ate. That sensation that people felt sometimes when they are being watched? Matt could feel it tenfold. 

“What?” Matt asked, feeling self conscious, “Do I have something in my teeth or something?”

Foggy chuckled and then sighed.

“No, it’s just… you’re here. You’re here in front of me and you’re alive,” he said.

Matt felt a sudden heavy feeling in his stomach like he had swallowed a rock. He put his food down on the table.

“I’m sorry I ever put you through that pain,” he said. He knew apologizing wouldn’t be enough. Nothing could ever be.

“But you’re still going to do the vigilante thing?” Foggy asked, pushing his food around with his chopsticks.

“I actually haven’t done any of that since… you know,” Matt paused, “I’m doing it now because I was worried about you and Karen.”

Foggy nodded. “I think I get it now,” he said, “I’m trying to anyway.”

Matt listened to Foggy eat thinking about what he had said. 

Matt had tried to stop being Daredevil before. He had committed fully to being a lawyer and letting the justice system handle crime. He had taken on cases defending the poor in court against rich and powerful people. He had been good at it. Really good.

And yet, he had kept his Daredevil suit, folded in its case at the bottom of his closet. Like an ex-smoker who keeps one cigarette in their wallet just in case. Just in case something happens that’s so terrible, so stress inducing that they just have to get it out and take a drag.

“I’m gonna go see if I can stop Frank from killing even more people tonight,” Matt said.

“Are you sure you wanna do that Matt?” Foggy asked, taking a sip of water, “If Frank Castle finds out you’re the one who stopped him from snagging one of Russo’s guys, he is NOT going to be happy.”

Matt got up and threw out the box he had been eating from, “I have to, Foggy. I can’t sit back and let more people die. Besides, I can handle Frank.”

Foggy looked at him, chewing thoughtfully, “You know,” he said, pointing at Matt with his chopsticks, “You can’t hold yourself responsible for everybody’s lives.”

“I know. But if I can intervene, why wouldn’t I?”

Foggy stopped eating and looked out Matt’s window at the billboard flashing an advertisement for women’s deodorant. 

“No offense Matt but I’m so glad I’m not you right now.”

Matt gave him a grim smile. He grabbed his mask off the armchair he had been sitting in and began to pull it on.

“Well, is there any way that I can help that doesn’t involve hand to hand combat and ninja skills?” Foggy asked, getting up and disposing of his trash.

Matt adjusted the mask around his face and nodded, “Yeah actually, there is. Just keep your phone close and wait for Karen to call you from Vermont and if anything awful happens and you need me, just call for me.”

“Call for you? Oh, because you can hear everything?”

“Yeah, just kind of… chant my name loudly. I’ll hear it,” Matt grabbed his billy club and fastened it in its holster. 

“How does that work exactly?”

“It’s hard to explain but let’s just say I’ll be keeping one ear tuned into what’s going on here and the other will be listening for Frank.”

Foggy nodded and crossed his arms, “Okay so, I’ll be sure not to do anything inappropriate in here then.”

They laughed. It really was like old times when they had shared a dorm room at school. 

“Foggy, if I don’t come back…”

“I’ll come find you, Matt. Like last time,” Foggy reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, well, just in case, I think Frank’s going to be hanging around Karen’s apartment.”

“Got it.”

They stood there facing each other. Matt could hear Foggy’s heartbeat racing and the hand on his shoulder was clammy. 

“Matt… what if... What if Castle kills you this time?” Foggy dropped his hand to his side.

“I don’t think he would do that,” Matt said.

“What makes you so sure?”

Matt thought about the way Frank’s heart would speed up any time Karen was around. The way his voice would rise just a little when talking to her. 

“Trust me. I know.”

Foggy scoffed, “Matt, I want to trust you but you don’t exactly have a great track record.”

Matt lowered his head in guilt. There wasn’t really any reason to keep this a secret. It wasn’t information that would kill Foggy. Besides, Foggy wasn’t stupid, he had probably already figured it out.

“Okay. You’re right. No more keeping secrets, “ he sighed, “I don’t think Frank will kill me because…,” _he has feelings for Karen_ , “because he cares about Karen and Karen cares… well, _cared_ about me.”

Foggy nodded slowly, “Yeah, that makes sense. What’s up with them anyway? Karen gets all weird about him whenever I ask her about it. It’s like she’s in love with him or something.”

Matt bit his lip. 

“She… She’s not in love with him, is she?” 

Matt shrugged and turned his head away.

Foggy clapped his hand to his forehead and sat down on the chair behind him, “It all makes sense now,” he whispered, looking out Matt’s window.

“I should get going,” Matt said.

Foggy looked at him with a wide eyed expression on his face, “Good luck, Matt.”

Matt slipped out through the fire escape and scaled the building up to the rooftop. He listened for a moment. He heard the creak of his bed as Foggy settled into it. He heard the tones of Foggy’s cell phone as he turned up the volume. 

He turned his attention to the noises of the city. The pandemonium of millions of voices and millions of heartbeats. He perched on the edge of the building and cocked his head to the side, like a bird trying to look at the ground. 

“Wooooo!” The sound of a group of girls out for a bachelorette party in Times Square.

Car doors slamming and beer bottles smashing.

The high pitched laugh of a baby and the cooing of her mother.

An ambulance wailing.

“Hey, I’m outside, pick me up!” 

The sound of two cats hissing and growling at each other.

The stomp of combat boots against cement and the zip of a duffel bag. 

Matt let all the other noise fall away and focused on the last one.

He heard a grunt and then the sounds of a heavy object being placed on the ground. The unmistakable rattling of bullets. Several snaps and a click. 

Matt sprang into action. He ran across his apartment building’s rooftop and vaulted over to the next building making a beeline for the source. The sound had come from the North West, which he had expected. That was the direction Karen’s apartment was in. 

When he was about five buildings away from Karen’s he stopped and hid in the shadows. He cocked his head and listened. Amidst the tumult of the rest of the city he pinpointed the sound of three heartbeats coming from the rooftops of buildings nearby.

He focused on the heartbeat closest to him. He turned his face upward and sniffed the air. He could smell body odor, gunpowder, and coffee. And underneath another smell. A scent that made him think of hardship and heartbreak. Of fear.

He could also sense an intense anger. The same anger that had surrounded Frank Castle like a cloud when Matt and Foggy had been working on his case. In those days, Frank’s anger had been a constant presence. Radiating off of him like heat rising from a sidewalk on an extremely hot day.

As quiet as a cat, Matt bounded onto the rooftop Frank was on and hid behind the structure that led to the interior. 

“Come on out, Red.” 

Matt froze. 

A long exasperated sigh reached Matt like a gust of wind. “I know you’re there. I’ve been expecting you.”

The voice scratched against his ear drums. _How did he know_?

Matt reluctantly turned the corner and came into Frank’s view.

“So… back from the dead, huh?” Frank placed his hands on his hips and regarded Matt with a smirk on his face.

Matt could hear Frank’s long leather coat flapping in the wind. He could smell the sweat underneath Frank’s heavy bullet proof vest and the smell of the spray paint that was used for the symbol emblazoned on it. 

“Frank,” Matt said by way of greeting.

There was a sniper rifle setup behind Frank. It was loaded. 

“So, where have you been, Red?” Frank folded his arms against his chest.

“It’s… complicated,” Matt said, “It’s a long story.”

“Yeah,” Frank pursed his lips and looked around, “I don’t actually care.”

Matt shook his head and gave him a wry smile.

“Saw you rescue that Nelson guy.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “How?”

“What about Karen? She okay?” Frank asked ignoring Matt’s question

Matt nodded.

“Good,” Frank lowered his arms to his sides. Matt heard his heart rate lower slightly.

“You here to stop me, Red?”

Matt nodded. “You don’t have to do this, Frank,” he said, “You don’t have to kill them. You and I, we can work together.”

Frank snorted, “And what? Hand them to the authorities? Like I did last time? And here we are again. Chasing the same guy.”

Matt knew he was right but it didn’t matter. Killing was _wrong_ no matter what the reason. “Yeah, and I’d do it again and again,” he said.

“Well, you know how I feel about that,” Frank said.

They stood there facing each other. Matt heard the clicking of Frank’s teeth grinding against each other. He felt the air move just barely as the fingers on Frank’s right hand twitched. Before Frank could move Matt had reached for his billy club. 

Frank grabbed something out of his coat pocket but Matt had already thrown his club. It hit Frank’s hand and the object he had reached for fell to the ground. The club bounced off an air vent and back into Matt’s hand.

“Jesus, Red,” Frank said, shaking his hand in pain.

Matt turned his face in the direction of the object that Frank had reached for. Frank looked at him and then dove for it. Matt threw his billy club again but this time Frank was ready and he deflected it with the back of his arm. The club fell and rolled away.

Frank landed on the ground and began to army crawl towards the object. Matt sprinted towards him and tackled him just as Frank reached it and grabbed it. They wrestled, Frank clinging to the device and kicking with his legs. Matt came out on top and grabbed Frank’s arms by the wrists and twisted. The device fell from Frank’s hands. Frank roared, wrenched his hand free, and punched Matt in the face. Matt fell to the side and off of Frank. 

Frank got up and glared at Matt, who was kneeling on the ground. Frank pivoted on his feet and roundhouse kicked Matt right in the stomach. Matt fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him. Frank ran towards the device. He grabbed it and turned to face Matt, who sprang to his feet.

“If you had just killed those guys earlier I wouldn’t have to be out here cleaning up your mess!” Frank bellowed.

Matt began to run towards Frank.

“Remember this for next time. STAY OUT OF MY WAY!”

Just as Matt was about to reach him, Frank pressed something on the device he was holding and turned a knob. 

A deafening screech pierced the air.

Matt screamed and fell to his knees. It felt like someone had stabbed a knife right through his ear and out the other. He could feel the vibrations of the sound reverberate throughout his entire body. It was like standing next to a speaker at a club except the volume was turned up way higher.

He couldn’t hear anything else besides that high pitched shriek. It penetrated his brain, jumbled all his senses, interfered with his thoughts. He couldn’t feel anything. Not the pain from falling, not the cold cement he was laying on. He couldn’t smell. He couldn’t speak. All that existed was that sound. 

His hands flew up to his ears but it was no use. He began to shake violently. Then everything went black.


	56. Regrets

“Holy shit!”

Frank switched off the device in his hand. He could hear dogs barking all over the neighborhood. Howling at the sound only they and Matt had heard.

Frank rushed to Matt’s side. He was laying facedown on the ground. Frank turned him over. Blood was trickling out of his ears. Frank felt for a pulse. It was faint but it was there. He watched Matt’s chest rise and fall slowly. He was out cold.

Frank pressed an ear piece to his ear, “God damn it Lieberman. I needed to stop him not fucking kill him!”

Static sound and then, “I told you not to turn the volume all the way up, Frank! Over.” He sounded panicked.

Frank cussed and took off the ear piece. 

Micro had given him an apparatus that when switched on would emit sounds at a much higher frequency than a normal human ear could detect. Micro had proposed that a loud constant high frequency noise would interfere with Daredevil’s other senses. He had been right. They just hadn’t known to what extent.

The dial allowed you to control the volume of the sound up to twice the maximum safe decibel level for human hearing. Frank, as expected, hadn’t heard anything when he switched on the device and couldn’t gauge the severity of the sound. Ignoring Micro’s warnings about the volume level, he had turned it all the way up. 

He dragged Matt over to the shadows and leaned him against the parapet. Matt’s head lolled to the side, his mouth slightly open and his tongue sticking out. 

“Fucking christ!”

He took the ear piece out again, “Lieberman, call Curtis and tell him to come here to check out Red.”

“Will do. Over.”

“And tell him to bring an otoscope,” he added.

“On it. Over.”

Frank returned to his gear. He picked up his binoculars and peered at a rooftop a few buildings away. One of Russo’s guys was sitting on a pallet, a sniper rifle set up in front of him. He was looking through binoculars too but he was turned away from Frank. He was scanning Karen’s building and street. 

Frank grabbed an extra pair of headphones and walked back over to Matt. He placed them on his head. 

“Good thing I carry an extra, huh Red?”

Matt didn’t respond. 

Frank returned to his rifle and took out another set of headphones and put them on. He laid down in front of the rifle and looked through the scope. The man had lowered his binoculars and was rubbing his eyes. He let out a long yawn.

“One batch,” Frank whispered.

He aimed for the man’s head.

“Two batch.”

He put his finger on the trigger.

“Penny and Dime.”

A shot rang out and a split second later the man fell to the ground. There was no more movement from that rooftop. 

Frank turned the rifle towards the building directly behind Karen’s building. Another one of Russo’s men was on top of the building behind Karen’s. He was looking through binoculars down at the street. He apparently hadn’t heard Frank’s shot.

He looked through the scope. The man was just standing there. Completely exposed. He was now looking at the building where the other guy had been.

“One batch.”

The man noticed his partner was missing.

“Two batch.”

He looked behind him in panic. Frank adjusted.

“Penny and dime.”

Another crack and the man collapsed. 

Done and done. 

Frank removed his headphones. 

“See, Red? It’s as easy as that!” He called out, “Now we don’t have to worry about those two anymore!”

Matt sat motionless.

Frank walked over and took the headphones off of Matt’s head. He packed it up along with the rest of his gear. When he was done he grabbed a crate from the corner and sat down in front of Matt.

He studied him. Murdock in his silly Daredevil outfit. Murdock with his iron convictions and morals. Murdock the man Karen had loved.

“If you had just stayed out of my way, Red,” Frank muttered.

Matt’s head was leaning forward so that his chin was nearly touching his chest.

“Look, I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Frank said, as if Matt had accused him of doing just that, “I just wanted to stop you from interfering.”

Salive ran out of Matt’s mouth and down the side of his chin.

Frank shook his head and took out an extra shirt from his bag. He wiped at Matt’s face and returned to his crate. 

“You ain’t gonna hear this from me later but… I’m sorry, okay?” Frank shrugged and looked away.

A few minutes passed with nothing but the sounds of the wind gusting through the alleyways and traffic in the streets below.

Frank wondered what Karen would think if she knew Frank had nearly killed Murdock. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He sighed.

“She loved you, you know that? She _still_ loves you,” Frank said, swallowing hard, “You should stop lying to her, there’s no need.”

He put his head in his hands. He thought back to the time he had first met Murdock, Nelson, and Karen. They had barged into his hospital room offering their legal service. Ultimately, It had been Karen’s actions that had convinced him to hire them. Her fiery spirit. Her desire to expose the people behind his family’s murder. She had been the only one in the entire city, maybe even the entire world, who had even cared.

“She’s quite a woman, Red. One in a million. You should treat her better.”

He rubbed his forehead and rested his head in his hands. He could feel his throat constricting. He blinked.

“I just want to stop Russo so that he doesn’t hurt anyone anymore,” he said, feeling the need to explain, “So that he doesn’t hurt _her_. I can’t stop, I can’t _rest_ until I’ve done that. You gotta understand that.”

He looked through his fingers at Matt who had begun drooling again. He got up and wiped Matt’s face and then sat back down. 

He wondered if he had actually ruined Red’s hearing. For the first time that night Frank was scared.

At that moment he heard the creak of the roof access door opening. He got up and went to investigate. 

It was Curtis. He had a duffel bag with him.

“Frank? What’s going on?” Curtis asked, looking concerned, “That Micro dude called me-”

“Yeah, yeah. I need you to check someone out for me.”

He led Curtis to where Matt was seated against the wall.

“Holy shit. It’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Curtis said, staring at Matt, “What the hell did you do to him?”

Frank shrugged.

Curtis shook his head and put his duffel bag down. He took out a thick blanket. 

“Come on. Help me lay this guy on top of this blanket,” he said.

Frank grabbed Matt underneath his armpits and Curtis grabbed his legs. They lifted him and carried him over to the blanket and laid him down gently. 

Curtis took out the otoscope from his bag and another smaller bag of supplies, “We need to clean his ears first before I can look inside them,” he said.

“Hold on,” Frank said.

He took out the shirt he had used to clean up Matt’s saliva, “Look away for a second.”

“What? Why?” Curtis asked incredulously.

“Please. You can’t know who he is,” Frank said.

Curtis shook his head but turned his body away from them. Frank removed Matt’s mask and tied the shirt around the top half of his head but left his ears uncovered. 

“Okay,” he said.

Curtis grabbed his supplies and knelt next to Matt’s body. He turned him over to his right side and asked Frank to hold him there. He cleaned the blood from Matt’s ear with gauze and normal saline. Then he took the otoscope and inspected the ear. Frank waited with bated breath.

“Well, his eardrum is intact. In fact, it looks really healthy. Whatever you did to him didn’t affect this ear.”

Frank sighed in relief. 

They turned Matt over and Curtis did the same with his other ear.

“Yup. This looks good too,” he said.

They laid him back down flat on the blanket. Curtis continued to assess Matt’s body while Frank briefly told him about how Daredevil’s powers worked and what had happened when he had used the device Micro had given him against Daredevil. 

Curtis nodded as Frank spoke. He took out a stethoscope and listened to Matt’s heart and lungs. He listened to his abdomen. He checked all of Matt’s peripheral pulses. He felt around Matt’s head, touched his torso feeling for internal bleeding or wounds. He even got out a blood pressure cuff and checked Matt’s blood pressure.

“This guy is fine from what I can tell,” he said when he was finished. He removed his stethoscope and packed it in his bag. 

“He’s just unconscious. That sound you played probably caused some kind of sensory overload and he just.. Shut down. Fainted. I expect he’ll be good as new when he wakes up.”

Frank was relieved to hear those words.

“Thanks Curtis.”

“I wouldn’t do that again though,” Curtis added, “I think it would have eventually killed him.”

Frank looked down at Matt and nodded.

“So… does this have anything to do with Russo?” Curtis asked, noticing the sniper rifle case behind Frank.

“Yeah. It does.”

Curtis got up and threw his bag over his shoulder.

“You need any help with that?”

Frank shook his head, “Nah. I’m gonna go get a couple of his other men in Greenwich Village tonight. L- Micro’s been scanning the city looking for Russo’s hideout. He says he fixed his surveillance so it won’t be long now before we know where he’s holed up.”

Curtis stuck out his hand and helped Frank to his feet. 

“What about this guy?” He said, jerking his head towards Matt, “It’s a cold night. Wouldn’t want him to get hypothermia.”

Frank considered this.

“I’ll wrap him in that blanket and leave my coat,” he said. 

Curtis raised his eyebrow at him.

“And I’ll put him in the stairwell.”

“Mm-hmm,” Curtis gave him a half smile, “That’ll work.”

After Curtis left Frank removed the t-shirt from Matt’s head. He placed it on Matt’s body so that he was wearing it over his Daredevil suit. Then Frank took off his leather coat and put it on Matt. It was long enough to cover him nearly to his feet. He took the Daredevil mask and stuffed it in the coat’s pocket. From his backpack he took out his black beanie and placed it on Matt’s head. As a final touch, he took out a pair of sunglasses and placed them over Matt’s eyes. 

He hauled Matt over his shoulder and took him inside the building’s stairwell. It was much warmer in there than it was outside and he’d be protected from the wind chill. The fluorescent lights flickered and it smelled faintly of urine. Frank doubted anyone would run into Matt here at this hour of the night. And if they did, Matt would just look like a sleeping homeless guy with weird pants. 

He laid Matt on the ground and made sure the coat was buttoned and zipped so that Matt’s Daredevil suit wasn’t visible. He covered him with the blanket and tucked in his feet. He pulled the beanie down low over Matt’s face. 

“There,” Frank muttered. 

He left him there in that stairwell and made his way to Foggy’s neighborhood.


	57. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Billy was awakened in the early hours of Tuesday morning by Jeremy. He had been deep asleep. Dreaming about Frank Castle’s inevitable defeat.

“Sir, we have something of great importance to present to you,” Jeremy said. He was trying to hold back his excitement.

“Castle?” Billy asked, half asleep.

“No, not Castle. The girl.”

Billy’s eyes sprang open. He was wide awake now.

He dressed in another brand new suit. Tom Ford this time. It was a gray two piece suit with a window pane pattern. 

“Bring out the mirror,” he said to Jeremy.

Jeremy rolled the full length mirror to him, angling it down. 

“Straighten it.”

“A-Are you sure?” Jeremy looked at Billy with uncertainty.

Billy nodded.

Jeremy slowly straightened out the mirror so that Billy’s face would come into view. 

Billy had thought maybe he would be ready to look at himself without recoiling but he was sorely mistaken. _How can anybody even look at me_?

In the dim light of the room his scars cast shadows across his face. His hair was beginning to grow back, but still he looked like he was terminally ill. His eyebrows were still MIA. He wondered if they’d ever come back.

His reflection disgusted him and the expression on his face showed it. He wanted to scream. Why did Frank Castle have to go for the face? _Because he knew it would hurt me more than death_.

He tried to smile but it did nothing for his appearance. It made him appear ghastly.

He waved his hand, “Take it away.”

Jeremy rolled the mirror back into the corner. 

“Brief me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“After we lost track of the girl yesterday, two of our guys suggested we look into her family. They found out she’s originally from Vermont and that her parents still live there. They volunteered to drive up there and check it out. I let them go because we weren’t making any progress here in the city anyway and I thought maybe they were on to something...”

Billy nodded as he listened. He would have done the same. Better to cover all your bases.

“When they arrived she wasn’t there but they stuck around and kept an eye out. Late last night she arrived in a rental and they captured her.”

“Ha! I’d like to speak to those men. They’ll be receiving a bonus.”

“Of course,” Jeremy said, looking pleased, “Are you ready to go?”

Billy nodded. He selected the black cane with the crystal handle again and followed Jeremy out the door. 

He was feeling much better, physically at least. He didn’t need the wheelchair anymore and all his wounds were healed. All he needed to do now was begin training again. Then he’d really be back to his old self, at least as far as physical capabilities went.

They walked into the conference room, where a group of ANVIL employees had already gathered. They had thrown the girl into the center of the room. Her hands and feet were bound, her mouth duct taped shut and she was blindfolded. She was kneeling and Billy could see tear tracks on her face. Her hair stuck out everywhere. Her clothes were rumpled. They hadn’t bothered removing her coat.

Two men stood behind her. One of them had a large bruise on his jaw and a fat lip. Dried blood congealed around his nose. She had clearly put up a fight.

He walked towards her, tapping his cane with each step. She cocked her head at the sound, listening, shaking. He stopped in front of her and leaned against the cane.

“Tut tut tut,” he clicked with his tongue, “Now boys,” he said looking around at the other men, a glimmer in his eye, “This won’t do for our special guest. You could have at least removed her coat.”

He indicated Karen with a jerk of his head and the two men behind her cut off the zip tie they had used to bind her hands. When her hands were free she jerked them away from the men, nearly elbowing one of them in the face. 

“Whoa! This one is a feisty one!” Billy remarked.

One of the men grabbed her arm while the other attempted to remove her coat on one side. Their efforts were in vain however, she was resisting. Finally one of them took out a gun and cocked it. The sound made her instantly freeze. They proceeded to remove her coat at gunpoint.

“Well, had this been a fair fight she might have even bested you,” Billy joked. The others in the room laughed.

“Hey, we brought her here. All the way from Vermont,” The bruised man said except his words came out all muffled due to the swelling around his mouth.

“Yes, I was only having a little fun. Thank you. You will both be rewarded no doubt.” 

The men placed another zip tie around her wrists. 

“Take the blindfold and duct tape off,” Billy ordered. 

The man with the bruise ripped the duct tape off her face. She flinched but made no sound. He untied the blindfold and it fell to the floor. 

Her eyes darted around the room like a wild animal’s. They landed on Billy’s face and she did a double take. A look of pure disgust, then of pity crossed her face. Billy hated both.

“We meet again Miss Karen Page,” he said, keeping his voice calm. 

She kept looking at him but didn’t say anything.

“That’s right. Take a good long look at what your boyfriend did to me,” he said. 

He leaned in until his face was an inch away from hers. 

Her eyes travelled around the scars in curiosity. She met his eyes and stared at him. He held her gaze. From this distance he could see every pore on her face. Every freckle, every eyelash. In her eyes he saw pure hatred. The intensity of it startled him a little.

_Is she challenging me_?

Billy raised his eyebrow as Karen leaned her head back and then slammed it into his. He stumbled backwards and fell.

A titter of laughter broke out, the two men who had brought her laughing the loudest.

Billy turned his head sharply to his men. They stopped laughing immediately. He got up, waving Jeremy away when he tried to help. He stood, using his cane for support, and brushed imaginary dirt off his pants. Then he slapped Karen across the face

The smack of his hand across her cheek seemed to echo inside of the room. Karen let out a yelp and fell to the ground.

“You’re a fighter,” Billy said, taking slow steps around her, “You made a little mess of my boy here.” He stopped next to the bruised man and put his hand on his shoulder.

Karen was laying helpless on the ground.

“Put her in a chair,” Billy said to the two men.

They brought out a wooden chair and threw her on it. Karen’s head lolled to the side, her hair curtaining her face.

Using his cane he pushed her hair aside. Silent tears were coursing down her cheeks, one of which was red and inflamed.

“You try some shit like that again and you’ll wish you’d never even met Frank Castle,” Billy said loud enough for only her to hear.

She stared at the ground, her jaw set. Billy straightened up and tapped the cane against her chair.

“So! You’re the one Frank Castle is trying so hard to protect.”

She didn’t respond

“What do you even see in him? He’s a fucking animal,” Billy said. The men in the room laughed and he grinned. 

“Let me tell you how it’s going to be. We’re going to send out a message to ol’ Frank. Tell him we’ve got his girl. Oh, he’ll be so mad. He’ll come charging in with all the guns in the city. Well, I say, bring it on.”

The others in the room cheered.

“I’ve got a whole army now and we are more than ready for him.”

Billy smiled as the men around him hooted and barked.

“He’ll kill you all.”

Billy almost didn’t hear it. He held up his hand and the room quieted down.

“What did you say?”

Karen turned her head slowly, her hair hanging wildly along her face, her eyes peeked out ablaze. Something deep and primal was burning there.

“I said he’ll _kill_ you all,” she enunciated as though they were all a bunch of school boys.

Her words echoed across the room, sending chills up and down their spines. It was silent and then Billy laughed. The others joined in, uncertain at first, but soon the room erupted in gales of laughter.

“We’ll see about that, Miss Karen Page,” Billy said, “Blindfold her,” he turned to his assistant,   
“Jeremy?”

Jeremy walked beside him as they left the room. 

Her words rang in his ear. It wasn’t so much what she had said but the _way_ she had said it, her voice dripping with hatred. He didn’t admit it to anyone, not even Jeremy, but something about her had shaken him. Something about her was almost… scary.


	58. A Question of Survival

The men left her in the room alone. They turned off all the lights and she was in the dark. Her legs were bound at the ankles and her arms were behind her, bound at the wrist with zip ties. The man with the bruise had blindfolded her while the other had held a gun pointing directly at her head, to prevent her from pulling any tricks.

It was silent. She could only hear a faint hum of machinery. She had no idea where she was or what time of the day it was. If they had driven straight back from Vermont it would be the early hours of Tuesday right now.

She knew it had been over for her when the second man had appeared with the gun outside of her parent’s home. She had almost made it. She would have had it just been one man.

The man with the gun had ordered her to drag his partner back to a car he had waiting in the road. The man was heavy, and it had taken a long time to drag him to the street. The whole time she wondered where her parents were. She wondered if they had been home and just hadn’t heard anything. Out, away at a social event, the way they had always been when she was growing up. 

At least that was what she had told herself. She had hoped to God those men hadn’t broken in and killed them first.

After she had dragged the man all the way back to the car, the one with the gun had ordered her to lift him into the passenger seat. The man’s weight had resisted against her as she struggled to push him into a sitting position.

“Buckle his seatbelt,” the man ordered waving his gun at the seatbelt.

Karen raised her eyebrow at him but leaned in and buckled the seatbelt.

“Good, now walk to the back of the car.”

Karen walked to the back of the car and the man unlocked it with his key fob. 

“Open it.”

“No, please,” Karen whimpered.

“Do it or we will wait here until your parents get home and I will shoot them right in front of you.”

He could have been lying but Karen didn’t want to risk the lives of her parents. She climbed into the trunk.

The man took zip ties out of his pocket.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered.

She clasped her shaking hands behind her. With one hand pointing the gun at her, he placed a zip tie around her wrists and pulled it tight. He did the same with her ankles. Only then did he holster his gun. He took out a roll of duct tape and taped her mouth shut. As a last measure, he blindfolded her.

Without another word he slammed the door of the trunk. 

Karen trembled in the back as she heard him start the car. They peeled out of the cul de sac and drove off into the night.

Karen ran the scenario over and over in her mind. She should’ve screamed. Why hadn’t she screamed? The question haunted her the entire way back to New York City.

She sat there now in Russo’s hideout in complete darkness. There wasn’t a single light in the room. They hadn’t duct taped her mouth again which meant they weren’t worried about anyone hearing her screams. 

One person might have heard it. Once. 

She blinked hard as tears welled up in her eyes. She began to cry and soon she was bawling.

Seeing Russo had been a shock. His face had been completely mutilated. Frank had done that with his own bare hands. 

A large part of her was glad. The piece of shit deserved it, she thought. He betrayed Frank and got Frank’s entire family killed and was now plotting to kill her. She couldn’t imagine why you’d let someone like that live. 

But a small voice of doubt nagged at her. Destroying someone’s face like that was almost crueler than death.

Despite the insistence of that little voice, she knew that if she had been Frank she would have done the same thing. If Russo walked in right now and she had a gun on her, she would shoot with no hesitation. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. To lose a family member forever.

Aside from Russo slapping her, they hadn’t hurt her. She worried they were saving it for later. For when they had an audience. 

She wriggled her hands but it was no use. The zip tie was tight. There was no way she’d be slipping out of them. But maybe…

She scooted to the edge of her chair. She took a deep breath and launched herself onto the ground. She sucked in air when she landed hard on her shoulder. She laid there a moment, listening for sounds. For footsteps coming to check on her. There were none.

She rolled onto her knees and attempted to bring her hands underneath her but couldn’t. Her shoulders just wouldn’t bend.

She closed her eyes tightly. She knew what she had to do.

She shuffled back to the chair and used her feet and shoulders to slide herself back onto it. When she was sitting again she stopped and took a few deep breaths. Then she scooted back to the edge of the chair, and threw herself off again, trying to land on one of her hands. 

“Oof,” The air in her lungs escaped as she landed flat on her back. Still, no one came to check on her. 

She repeated this. Over and over. Tears streaming down her cheeks as the pain in her shoulder grew. 

She was beginning to get tired. With the last bit of her strength she hoisted herself back up into the chair only to slip off immediately. Her hands shot out behind her to break her fall. With a loud pop her left arm came out of its socket. 

Karen screamed. 

Her scream was so loud she felt as though the entire city had heard it. 

The pain was like none other she had ever felt before. Her entire body tensed and she writhed on the ground like a dying snake. Even then no one popped their head in to see what she was doing. 

She laid there sobbing for what felt like a long time. She knew this was only the beginning.

She used her right arm to push herself up onto her knees. Her left arm hung loosely. She bit her lip and counted to ten.

With only the will to survive pushing her, she straightened out her right arm and moved her hands underneath her again. She felt another stab of pain and stopped, biting her lip so hard she began to bleed.

After a few minutes the pain subsided a little and she continued, this time she was able to move her hands past her butt, beneath her legs, and then finally over her feet. 

She hugged her hands to her chest. Her eyes shut tight, her face wet with tears. 

She lowered her arms and with her right hand reached into the front of her jeans. On the inside of the waistband, near the button, she had sewn a tiny pocket. She dug inside of it with her fingers and pulled out the beacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to LA next week so I'm not sure I will have much time to write. If I post next week it'll only be like 1 or 2 chapters but to be on the safe side I'll say that I won't be posting next week. (I'll try my best though ;))


	59. Time

Frank returned to the van at the break of dawn the next morning. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon and early morning commuters were beginning their trek to work.

He was carrying a drink holder from the local coffee shop. A strong black coffee for him and a decaf for Micro. What the point was of getting a decaffeinated drink he didn’t know. He had also grabbed a cheese danish, though what he really wanted was to go to his diner and order the usual eggs and bacon.

Sniping Russo’s men outside of Foggy’s place had been easy. No one had been there to stop him that time.

There had been four men around Foggy’s apartment. Two of them on rooftops and two of them on the street. It was the smoke from the cigarettes they had been smoking that Frank had seen first. He had sniped the two on the rooftops before turning his gun to the street. 

When he had eliminated the other two targets he had gone down and dragged their bodies into an alleyway to delay their discovery by anyone. He had also snagged the walkie talkies and cell phones off of them.

He had then broken into Foggy’s apartment building. 

Inside Foggy’s apartment he had been confronted by yet another one of Russo’s men. He had been hiding in the closet in the guest room and had immediately shot at Frank. He missed by mere inches before Frank shot the gun out of his hand and then shot him in the head at point blank range.

Normally when Frank shot people he didn’t care about the mess and the aftermath. It was always just point, shoot, and leave. There was never any reason to dilly dally. 

But last night when had seen the blood splattered all over the patchwork quilt and the painting of lily pads in the guest room he felt a tiny nagging feeling of remorse for dragging more people into this mess than was necessary. 

Nelson didn’t deserve this shit, he had thought when looking at the mess he had made.

Surrendering to his feelings of guilt he had disposed of the body and cleaned up as much of the blood as possible. That had taken up most of the rest of the night. 

He arrived at the van weary and ready to rest up. 

The van was parked underneath an overpass in East Manhattan. Near the water. There were a couple of vans and trucks parked nearby as well. Frank suspected a few of them were occupied. He would sometimes see eyes peeking out of small windows on the sides of the vehicles and every now and then someone would emerge from the back, dressed in work clothes. They were harmless. Just regular people living their lives.

He took out his key fob and unlocked the van with a click. The vehicle beeped and he opened the door to the passenger seat and climbed in. He locked the doors and made his way into the back.

Micro was up and staring at his computer. 

“Did you even go to sleep?” Frank asked, dropping his duffel bag onto the bed.

Micro turned and blinked at him. He had huge bags under his eyes and his hair was sticking out crazily. There was a large toolbox on the ground next to him and various electronic pieces all over the desk. He looked like a crazy scientist who lived in a van.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“The beacon went off…” Micro whispered.

Frank felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the van.

“Karen?” He choked.

Micro nodded.

“FUCK,” Frank exploded, dropping the drinks on the desk and his bag on the floor. His fists were clenched so hard his fingernails drew blood. 

He immediately began to plan an attack. Pack up the guns, find Russo, and slowly eliminate. Another part of him just wanted to drive the van straight into Russo’s lair and shoot everything that moved. But he knew he needed to be careful. The stakes were high.

Micro was pointing at something on his computer and Frank stomped over to look. Micro had searched for a pair of coordinates and their location was pinned on the map. It was a large building in lower Manhattan. Near the East River and not too far from where they were parked.

“When did this happen?” Frank demanded.

“Just now. Five minutes ago,” Micro said.

Frank slammed his hand on the table and the laptop skidded to the edge. Micro grabbed it before it fell. Frank yanked the cabinet door open and began grabbing ammo and throwing it on the bed.

Micro typed on his computer and the monitors on the wall changed. 

“Frank, look,” he said.

Frank turned and looked at the monitors. They showed different angles of the same warehouse. It was large and looked exactly like all the others that were in the same area. They watched as a truck drove up and began unloading boxes. Another similar truck drove off. There were a couple of guys on the roof looking around inconspicuously with binoculars. 

“This is where the beacon went off,” Micro said.

Frank went back to packing his bag with ammo.

“Frank, it could be a trap,” Micro warned.

Frank scoffed.

“Frank, we should at least watch the monitors for a while before you go storming in there. Look for patterns, scan the area around it and look for other guards, find places for you to stash guns. We need to plan,” Micro insisted. 

He grabbed Frank’s arm. Frank shook him off.

Micro was obviously right and Frank knew it. He hadn’t been planning to just barge in with no plan anyway. Just the act of packing his bag in preparation for the assault felt like he was doing _something_. Every minute he spent here in the van was one more minute of Karen being held against her will by Russo. God only knew what kinds of things they might be doing to her. 

“Fine,” he grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest.

They watched the monitors silently for a while. They found two more lookouts a couple of blocks away from the warehouse. Other than that, they were largely unguarded, at least on the outside. They had no idea what to expect from the inside. Micro checked every single camera angle to see if they could get a view from the inside of the warehouse. There was only one that pointed to the large entrance that the trucks would drive into to unload their supplies. All they could see were rows upon rows of stocked shelves.

Frank sat down on the bed behind him and rubbed his temples. It wasn’t very obvious where exactly Russo and his men were holed up inside of the warehouse. 

“Okay,” Micro said, touching the fingertips of his hands together in front of him, “The beacon going off could mean one of three things.” 

Frank looked up and listened intently as though he were in a school lecture hall. He sat up straight as an arrow on the bed, clenching his hands intermittently to stave off the trembling.

“One, Karen set off the beacon without their knowledge. Two, they found the beacon and they set it off hoping to lure you to them. Or Three, the beacon somehow landed in the warehouse and went off by accident. Option three seems like the least likely scenario so we can eliminate that one immediately,” Micro said. He was tapping his fingers together while he spoke, his forehead creased in deep thought. 

“Option one and two seem equally likely. If it’s option two then when you show up, they will be ready for you. If it’s option one you will be catching them by surprise and you’ll have the upperhand,” Micro said.

Frank looked down at his twitching hands. Russo was a clever son of a bitch he knew that, but Karen had proven to be extremely capable. With her blonde hair, large pale blue eyes, and porcelain like complexion, she was easy to underestimate. But he knew from experience that she had a fight in her. 

She was extremely bold and often didn’t worry about the consequences. She slammed people in articles not caring who she offended. Not caring who came after her as long as the truth was exposed.

She had even pointed a gun at him once and for a moment he had actually believed she would shoot. She lived in a rough neighborhood by herself and often dealt with high profile criminals and gangsters. She wasn’t afraid, that was for sure.

But he worried sometimes that she didn’t know when to stop. When to hold back and be cautious. Her words got her into a lot of trouble and she didn’t seem to care if she made enemies.

She was ambitious and when she set her mind to something it was hard to get her to pay attention to anything else. She had never stopped trying to get Frank to turn around. To change his ways. Even when she had been witness to the brutal ways he sometimes killed. Even when he had told her specifically to stay away from him. She had kept right on inserting herself into his life. 

She may as well get a target symbol tattooed to her forehead the way she lived her life.

“I’m gonna go with option one,” he said.

Micro raised an eyebrow at him, “How can you be so sure?”

“Well, for one thing, they don’t have much of a lookout. For another, Russo still had guys out at Nelson’s apartment a couple of hours ago looking for her,” he said simply. 

Of course, he couldn’t ever really be 100% sure but he knew Russo and Russo wouldn’t have guys out still looking for Karen if they already had her in their hands. It was as sure as Frank could get. Besides, he wasn’t one to shy away from risks.

Micro nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, “You know, I think you’re right.”

Frank looked at him in surprise. Micro was the kind of guy who liked to be prepared for the worst possible outcome. It was why he had built the van in the first place. 

“Good,” Frank said, getting up and resuming his packing.

Micro studied the screen while Frank packed. 

“I see people going in and out of the lower level of the parking garage. There may be an entrance of some kind there,” Micro noted, switching between camera angles.

“How many guys do they have on guard outside in total?” Frank asked.

Micro held up his finger to the screen and counted under his breath.

“Six,” he confirmed.

Frank snorted, “Piece of fucking cake.”

“So, how do you want to do this, Frank?” Micro said, exhaling. He got up and began to stretch. 

“First, I will get rid of those guys on the roof. Then I will use their walkie talkies and call for backup. As more of them stream out of the warehouse, I’ll be able to see where they’re coming from, and take them out one by one. After that… well, all I can say is it’s going to be a fuckin’ bloodbath. I need you to be my eyes in the sky, Lieberman.”

Micro rubbed his eyes and nodded. He grabbed something from the clutter on the desk and handed it to Frank.

“It’s the EMP generator. I rigged it.”

Frank took it and stuffed it in its bag. 

“I’ll let you know when to use it,” Micro said, sitting back down at the desk, “And follow my instructions this time, Frank. Electronics are more dangerous than you think,” he added sternly.

“Yes, sir,” Frank muttered, remembering Matt in the stairwell.

“Take this too,” Micro said, grabbing another contraption from the pile of electronics on the desk. He handed it to Frank.

“What… a body cam? Really?”

“As much as I don’t want to watch you murder people, I need to be able to see what kind of electronic security system, if any, Russo has in place. Security cameras, security locks, computers, whatever… It’ll help me help you,” Micro said.

“Fine,” Frank muttered. He attached the camera to his vest. 

“Fuck, I left my coat with Red,” Frank said, looking down at his outfit. He couldn’t walk down the street wearing a bulletproof vest with a spray painted skull on it, an earpiece, and a body cam while carrying a large suspicious looking duffel bag. It was fine at night when it was dark and it was hard to see him in the shadows. But in the daylight his attire would be alarming.

“Why? You know what, nevermind,” Micro said, “Wear my coat.” He shrugged out of his red flannel coat and handed it to Frank.

Frank held it out at arms length, “When was the last time you showered?”

“When was the last time _you_ showered?” Micro asked incredulously, “Do you care about how you smell all of a sudden? Want me to go out and get you some cologne?”

Frank shook his head, “Fuck off,” he said amused.

He put on the coat. It was a little small for him in the shoulders but he was able to zip it up. He held his arms out, “What do you think? How do I look?”

Micro examined him, “You know, it’s actually pretty good camo. They’ll be expecting you all in black like you usually are. Here take this too,” He grabbed an olive beanie that was hanging off one of the hooks on the desk.

Frank pulled it on, “How about now? Do I look like you yet?”

Micro grinned, “You’ll never look as good as me but this is close enough.”

Frank rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag. 

“This is it,” he said, turning back to face Micro.

Micro nodded, “This is it.”

Frank exhaled. He felt a mixture of nervousness, fear, and excitement. It was the way he had always felt before missions when he had been on tour in Afghanistan. He had always looked forward to them despite the risk of getting killed or seriously injured. It was better than the mind numbing boredom between assignments, the sand everywhere, and the agony of being away from family for months on end. The missions gave him a goal. Something to focus on. And he had been fucking good at it. He sometimes felt like he was born for this kind of work. 

He had also never had a debilitating injury. He had had many close calls. But he managed to bounce back every single time. Even when he had been shot in the head and lain in a coma. His recovery had happened so quickly it was almost superhuman. After that he began to wonder if there was some kind of higher power watching over him. 

A knot formed in his stomach and his hands began to tremble again, this time in fear. This mission felt like the most important mission of his life. It felt like everything that mattered hinged on him completing it successfully. _I can’t fuck this up_.

He let out another sharp exhale. 

“You good?” Micro asked him, watching him closely.

Frank nodded. He grunted and rocked on his heels, “Yeah, yeah. Just getting in the right mindset.”

Micro nodded slowly. 

“I’m good,” Frank reassured him with a sharp nod of his head. “It’s time.” 

He turned to leave.

“I’ll be watching you, Frank,” Micro called out as Frank stepped through the partition door. He closed it behind him and exited the van.


	60. Jungle Falcon

Frank crouched on a rooftop and looked through a scope at the four men who were shooting the shit on the rooftop of a building across from the warehouse. They weren’t taking their duties seriously, Frank could see that. He took this as confirmation that they didn’t know about the beacon. 

He had already gotten rid of two other of Russo’s men that had been patrolling the streets. That part had been easy. He had waited in an alleyway until one of them walked by and then snatched them right up. He had snapped their necks before throwing their bodies into a dumpster.

He now pointed the sniper at one of the men on the roof. 

“One batch.”

He put his finger on the trigger.

“Two batch.” 

The man threw his head back in a loud guffaw.

“Penny and dime.”

Frank pulled the trigger and the bullet tore straight through the man’s forehead. It happened so fast the other men didn’t notice at first. It gave Frank time to reposition the sniper and shoot a second man.

Then there was panic. One of the men reached for his walkie talkie and the other dove to the ground. Frank shot at the one with the walkie talkie and he keeled over.

The last man was now army crawling towards the roof entrance of the building. Frank shot at him. The bullet hit the man in the middle of his back. The man shook and then stopped moving.

Frank reloaded his gun and returned it to his duffel bag. He hoisted it over his shoulder and ran down the stairwell. 

The building the men had been on was abandoned. The entrance was boarded up and padlocked. He walked around to the side. There was a rusty fire exit but it was too high for him to reach. He pushed a nearby dumpster underneath it and climbed up. The stairs rattled dangerously underneath his weight.

At the top the four men lay in pools of blood. He made his way over to the first man he had shot but stopped when he heard a gurgling sound and a gasp for air. He snapped his head towards the source. It was the last man he had shot. He was attempting to crawl forward.

Frank marched over to him and kicked him over with his foot. The man groaned in pain.

“What is your call sign?” Frank demanded.

The man turned his face away from him and shook his head. He was pale and losing blood rapidly. His freckles stood out against the blood on his cheek. His red hair glinted in the sunlight.

Frank dug the heel of his boot in the bullet hole coming out of the man’s stomach.

The man screamed.

“Your call sign?” Frank asked calmly.

The man sputtered. 

“Fuckin’... I don’t have time for this.”

Frank took out a pistol he had holstered to his waist and shot the man in the head.

He patted the man down and took a cell phone, a badge, and a walkie talkie. He examined the badge. The man’s smiling face looked back at him. Underneath him he read the name, “Mark Evans”.

He pressed the talk button on the walkie talkie but didn’t say anything. He waited a few moments and then let it go.

The walkie talkie let out some static and then a voice said, “Jungle Falcon, we do not read. Please repeat last transmission. Over.”

Frank cleared his throat and held the walkie talkie to his mouth. 

“All units this is Jungle Falcon. Requesting backup. Over,” Frank said in his best southern accent.

He waited.

“Jungle Falcon, this is Bone Daddy. Copy that. Over.”

Frank shoved the walkie talkie into his coat pocket and grabbed a pair of binoculars that was laying around. He peeked over the parapet at the warehouse and looked through the binoculars. He scanned the building until he saw movement from the parking garage. A group of five men were walking up from the underground parking. 

Frank checked the sniper rifles the men had positioned along the rooftop. They were loaded.

He turned one of the rifles and looked through the scope, aiming at the man leading the pack. 

“One batch.”

Finger on the trigger.

“Two batch.”

He followed the man with the scope.

“Penny and Dime.”

He shot and the man jerked before falling to the ground. The other men froze in a panic and then scattered like rats. Frank managed to shoot two of them with the sniper. The other two ran back towards the parking garage.

Frank cursed angrily. He got up but the roar of an engine made him stop. A white van was speeding down the road towards the two remaining men. Frank repositioned himself in front of the sniper and looked through the scope. Micro was driving their van towards the men. The men dove out of Micro’s way just before he hit them. Frank didn’t hesitate and pulled the trigger twice. The men didn’t even have a chance to get up.

He ran down the fire exit and towards the front of the building. Micro had dropped another duffel bag before speeding off again. Frank grabbed it and ran towards the parking garage of the warehouse.

It was cool inside of the garage and there weren’t many cars actually parked inside of it. He crept towards the stairs that led to the lower level. There was no one guarding it.

There were several cars parked on the lower level including the black Escalade he had seen the other night. Along the wall next to the stairwell exit door there was one other door. It was locked. 

“Frank, point the camera at the ceiling,” Micro’s voice sounded over Frank’s earpiece.

Frank grabbed the camera and held it up to the ceiling.

“Frank, you can use the EMP generator on security cameras. Just hold it up, turn it on, and wait until the red light goes off. This will cut the camera feed. Be sure to restart your body camera after you switch the generator off. Over.”

Frank took out the EMP generator and held it up to the camera. He switched it on. It made a clicking sound and a few moments later the security camera died. He shoved the EMP generator into his pocket and restarted his own camera. 

He took out the rifle he had packed in the duffel bag. It was an AR-15 and held thirty rounds. He also had two pistols holstered at his hips. He threw the duffel bag, which held a few more pistols and supplies, into the garbage can next to the door, in case he needed to retrieve it later. Then he took out the badge he had snagged off of the guy on the roof and held it up to the badge reader. 

The door unlocked with a click.

Frank took a deep breath, shook his hands, and cracked his head from side to side before pushing the door open.


	61. A Call For Help

Someone kicked angrily at Matt’s side and his eyes fluttered open. He could hear the faint echoes of a screech and then it began to fade. The sounds of people hurrying to work replaced it. An angry huff alerted him to the presence of a man standing in front of him. He smelled of musty clothes and cigars. 

“This ain’t no motel, kid,” a raspy voice said.

Matt turned his head groggily towards the speaker. The last thing he could remember was that horrible screech and Frank. He grabbed at his face in a panic but felt only skin and a pair of glasses on his face. He sighed in relief when he realized he wasn’t wearing his mask.

He felt the top of his head, he had on a beanie. He hardly ever wore one.

“Hey kid, you drunk or something?”

Matt shook his head, “N-no,” he croaked.

He sensed the man was standing on the steps just a few feet away from him. The man was large, his mass occupying most of the width of the stairs. Matt could hear the man’s heartbeat. The man’s heart had a murmur. His breathing had the same raspy quality as his voice.

Matt felt the weight of a thick blanket on top of him. He touched his torso and felt Frank’s black leather coat and a t-shirt. Underneath he felt his Daredevil suit.

Frank’s scent was so entrenched in his coat, if it weren’t for Matt not sensing another heartbeat near him he would think Frank was standing right next to him. Wearing the coat was like being enveloped in Frank’s arms. 

“Look, kid, I ain’t gonna call the cops. Just as long as you get outta here before anybody sees ya,” the man said, his voice softening in sympathy.

Matt nodded vigorously, “Thank you, sir.” He coughed.

Wrapping the blanket tightly around him he planted his hand on the ground and rose to his feet. He stumbled and placed his hand on the wall to regain his balance. He felt a little woozy. As though he had actually been drinking all night.

“Take these stairs all the way down. Leads straight to an exit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The man stood aside to let Matt pass. Matt started down the stairs.

“Don’t let me see you here again, kid,” the man added.

“You won’t, sir.”

Matt stumbled down the rest of the stairs. The building was eighteen stories tall. It took a little while for him to get all the way to the bottom.

He pushed open the exit door and was greeted by a cold blast of air. The sun was already high in the sky and the city had been awake for hours. He held onto the blanket around him with one hand and jammed the other in the coat’s pocket. It touched fabric. It was his mask.

Matt shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. Frank had nearly killed him the night before but had made some effort to conceal his identity. He didn’t know whether to feel thankful or not.

The memories of the night before returned to him as he staggered towards his apartment. There had been three heartbeats on rooftops near Karen’s apartment building. One of them had been Frank’s. He had the feeling the other two were no longer beating. His shoulders slumped at the thought.

People walked around Matt like there was an invisible two foot radius around him that they didn’t dare cross. He must have looked like a complete mess shuffling along the sidewalk, dressed in clothes that were too big for him and wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey buddy! Long night?” A panhandler on the street corner called out to him. 

Matt nodded and waved his hand as he walked by.

He made it to his apartment building and climbed up the stairs. When he reached his front door he fell against it with a thud. Moments later it swung open.

“Oh thank God.” Foggy grabbed Matt underneath his armpits and dragged him inside. He pulled him onto the couch and ran to shut the front door.

“What the hell happened?” He asked when he returned to the living room.

In as few words as possible Matt explained what had happened the night before as Foggy fixed him a cup of coffee. Just the aroma of coffee beans made him feel better.

“Here,” Foggy said, thrusting the mug into his hands.

Matt sat up and took a sip, “Ahh.”

“Matt, I haven’t heard from Karen,” Foggy blurted out. He was wringing his hands and shifting from one foot to the other.

Matt nearly spat out his coffee. He placed the mug on the table and swallowed. The hot coffee burned his tongue and throat. 

“What?”

“She never called,” Foggy said, his voice shaking in fear.

Matt sat up and threw the blanket off of him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and last night’s torture was immediately forgotten.

“Maybe… maybe she forgot?” Foggy said weakly.

They both knew that was bullshit.

“We need to call her parents,” Matt said, “We need to be absolutely sure.”

Foggy nodded and grabbed his cell phone but just as he began to dial it rang. “It’s an unknown number,” Foggy said, hesitating.

“Answer it,” Matt said, nodding at him.

Foggy swiped to answer, “H-Hello?”

Matt listened to the voice on the other end, “Hello, is this Franklin Nelson?”

The voice was that of an elderly woman. It wavered a little and he could hear the woman was breathing rapidly.

“Yes, this is he,” Foggy said, not taking his eyes off of Matt.

“Franklin, my name is Penelope Page.”

Matt shot up off the couch and Foggy began to pace.

“I am Karen Page’s mother,” Penelope’s voice cracked with the last word, “She used to work at the law firm Nelson and Murdock. Are you Franklin Nelson of Nelson and Murdock?” 

Matt could tell Penelope was trying really hard to keep it together.

Foggy nodded vigorously, “Yes, yes I am,” he said, forgetting that Nelson and Murdock was no more.

Penelope sighed heavily, “My Karen is missing, Mr. Nelson,” she choked out.

Matt listened to Penelope explain between sobs about finding a car rental outside of their home and a suitcase full of Karen’s things.

“Do you have any idea what may have happened to her?”

Foggy shut his eyes tightly hoping to stop the tears from falling. 

“No ma’am, I do not,” he said, “But I can alert the authorities here in New York City and we will do everything we can to find her.”

Foggy promised Penelope he would keep her updated and hung up the phone. He and Matt stood there silently for a while thinking about what might have happened to Karen.

Matt’s heart pounded in his chest and Foggy’s was beating rapidly along with it. Karen was supposed to have arrived at her parent’s house hours and hours ago, he thought. She could be anywhere right now. It had to have been Russo and his men. They could have brought her back to New York in the time that had passed since her arrival in Vermont. Or they could have killed her and dumped her somewhere in the woods.

This was the reason he had held back from telling Karen everything before. It was dangerous for her to know too much. If he let her in, if he let himself get close to her, she could be used by people like Russo as bait. She could be tortured for information. Or killed.

Matt never wanted that kind of life for her. The kind where she’d have to constantly look over her shoulder. She deserved so much more. 

Matt shook off Frank’s coat and ripped off the beanie, throwing it across the room. He pulled off the t-shirt and began to put on his mask.

“What are you going to do, Matt?” Foggy asked. 

“I’m going to listen and I’m going to find Russo and I’m going to put a stop to this.”

“What about Frank?”

Matt shrugged, “That’s not really important right now. I have to find Karen.”

“What if she isn’t in the city?”

“Then I’ll come back down here and book a flight to Vermont,” Matt said. He made his way over to the fire exit.

“Foggy, I want you to call the police. And I want you to get agent Dinah Madani involved. Tell them everything you know,” he added before exiting.

He clambered up to the rooftop and stood at the edge. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. 

He listened.

He heard the sounds of Foggy hurriedly getting dressed.

A blaring car alarm.

The subway rumbling underground and shrieking to a halt.

Endless phone conversations.

Kids screaming in play.

Bullets ricocheting off concrete. Ripping through flesh. Bodies hitting the ground. Screams being cut short. A feral guttural roar.

And a sound that made his throat catch. It was a small female voice whispering the phrase, “Frank, please hurry,” over and over again. The smell of salty tears intermingled with a familiar floral scent travelled with it.


	62. William "Billy" Russo

The door opened up into a long hallway. Fluorescent lights illuminated a dank, depressing interior. Doors lined the wall. Frank glanced up and saw two more security cameras. He used the generator to kill them. 

After restarting his own camera he crept along the hallway. He could hear the static of walkie talkies and voices. A doorknob at the far end of the hall turned and Frank stopped. 

Two men popped out of the room. One of them holding a walkie talkie to his mouth.

“Jungle Falcon, do you copy? Over,” he was saying.

They froze when they saw Frank. He was standing down the hall pointing the rifle at them. Before they could move he unloaded on them.

He heard a panicked voice from inside the room scream, “All units, Frank Castle is in the building. I repeat Frank-” 

The bullet Frank shot through the man’s head cut his message short. 

Frank grabbed the man’s walkie talkie and stalked down the hallway, shooting men as they appeared in front of him.

“All units, abort! We are being ambushed. Abort!”

He kicked open a door on the left. It was a patient room. There were fancy suits hanging from a hook at one end next to a full length mirror on wheels. This room could have only been occupied by one man. Frank slammed the door shut and continued down the hall, checking doors left and right. 

A few of them were locked and he used his badge to unlock them. Bullets sprayed him as soon as he would open a door, a few hit his bullet proof vest. It only took him a few shots to get most of the men. Others managed to flee.

One of the doors led to a computer room. It appeared to be empty. The only thing he could see were the white squares of light coming from the computer monitors. He was about to turn and leave when a bullet whizzed past his ear.

He instinctively dropped to the ground. Several more bullets were shot in his direction and they ricocheted against the wall behind him. He crawled away from the doorway and sat against the wall. He grabbed the EMP generator and switched it on. Then he checked the magazine on his rifle to make sure he had enough bullets. He was about to get up and run into the computer room when a scream from the other end of the hallway made him stop.

He turned to look. It was Karen. She was being dragged by two men down the hall. They were pulling her along by the arms which seemed to be causing her considerable pain. Her face was contorted in a grimace and she wouldn’t stop screaming. One of them had a gun pointed at her back. They dragged Karen in and out of view so fast that she didn’t even get a chance to see him. 

Another bullet whizzing by his ear brought him back to Earth. He grabbed a pistol from his hip and shot into the dark. He heard a yelp and a thud. He sprang to his feet and pointed his rifle into the darkness, letting off several rounds.

After that it was silent. The computer monitors had all shut off. He picked up the EMP generator and shut it off. 

He turned and ran down the hallway in the direction the men had been taking Karen, restarting his body camera as he ran. They had gone out the exit leading to the parking garage. Frank pumped his arms harder and burst through the door.

They were waiting for him. Russo and another tall muscular man were standing next to one of the Escalades. Another man was seated in the driver’s seat, engine on, ready to drive off. Several of the vehicles had already left carrying men that had managed to escape Frank’s wrath. 

The man next to Russo was bear hugging Karen from behind and Russo had a gun pointed to her head.

It was the first time Frank had seen the results of the damage he had done to Billy. It made him stop dead in his tracks. He stared at Billy’s new face, ravaged by the carousel’s mirror. He felt not a single ounce of remorse at the sight. Now Billy’s face matched his insides. 

“Drop your weapon, Frank,” Billy said smoothly upon Frank’s entrance.

Frank gripped the rifle tighter. 

“Drop it or I shoot.”

Frank looked at Karen. She was whimpering and her eyes were bloodshot. He carefully set the rifle down in front of him and held his hands up as he stood.

“Let her go, Russo,” he said hoarsely, “This is between you and me.”

Billy laughed. He lowered the pistol, still pointing it at Karen.

“Or what? Are you really going to risk your beloved’s life?” He ran the barrel of the gun against Karen’s arm almost seductively. 

Frank’s jaw clenched, “Don’t do this Russo.”

“Oh, I’ll do what I like, Frank.” Billy said. He nodded at the man next to him who let Karen go and pushed her forward. Then he pointed the pistol at her right thigh and pulled the trigger.


	63. Stay With Me

Karen’s cry pierced the air and bounced off the cement walls. Frank felt it rip straight through his soul. 

She fell to the ground and clutched at her leg with her right arm. Her lungs heaved as she gasped with pain.

Billy watched Frank intently, a twisted smile spreading on his ruined face. He pointed his gun at Karen's head.

Veins popped out all over Frank’s arms and pulsed. He reached for his pistol. Billy’s smile faltered but before he could shoot a billy club knocked the gun out of his hand. 

Frank pointed his pistol at Billy and squeezed the trigger. Russo’s man dove in front of him and took the hit. Russo scrambled into the Escalade and the driver sped off. Daredevil rolled into view from behind a parked car. 

Frank was already running behind the car that Russo was in.

“FRANK STOP!” Matt called behind him, “Frank, Karen needs you!”

Frank stopped running and turned around. 

Karen was laying in a crumpled heap. Blood was spreading on the ground beneath her leg. She was whimpering and shaking her head. He instantly forgot about Russo.

“Frank, go to her. Get her to safety. I’ll go after Russo,” Matt pleaded. 

Without another word, Frank rushed to Karen’s side. 

“Frank,” She was repeatedly whispering his name. 

“Shhh shhh,” he said to her, gently pushing her hair aside.

Frank didn’t notice Matt slip out of the parking garage. He forgot about Russo speeding away in his getaway car. All that mattered now was that Karen was hurt and needed him.

He took her hand away from the wound on her leg. The bullet had shot straight through and blood was seeping out at an alarming rate. He took off his belt and placed it around her thigh, cinching it tightly just above the bullet hole to decrease the blood flow to her lower leg.

“I’ll be right back, Karen, stay still,” he said.

“No, no,” she cried. She grabbed his hand. It was sticky with blood.

“I’m just getting some supplies. Don’t worry. I’m right here,” he said. He pried his hand out of hers and ran towards the garbage can where he had stuffed his duffel bag and retrieved it. He ran back to her side.

From the bag he took out a rag and tied it tightly around the wound on her leg. He placed his hands on it and held pressure.

Karen was staring up at the ceiling with a glazed expression on her face.

He made to lift her up but she jerked when he tried to move her left arm out of the way. He examined it. It was hanging loosely on her side.

He looked at her face. She had her eyes closed.

“Karen. Karen, stay with me,” he said, patting her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, “Frank,” she whispered, “Frank, you came.”

Frank nodded, “Karen, your left shoulder is dislocated. I’m going to put it back in place, okay?”

She nodded, fresh tears pouring out of her eyes.

Frank gently took her left arm and began to bend it at the elbow. Then in one quick motion he snapped her shoulder back into its socket. 

Karen shrieked. Her back arched and her body lifted off the ground as though shocked by electricity. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Frank said automatically, gathering her in his arms. She sobbed against him, clinging to his chest. 

Frank’s face was wet with tears. He held her and kissed her forehead. 

“We need to get you out of here,” he said to her. 

She nodded.

He took her in his arms and stood up. She buried her face in his chest as he walked out of the parking garage. He could hear sirens in the distance. 

They stood in the middle of the street in front of the warehouse. He could feel Karen slipping away in his arms.

“Karen, help is coming,” he whispered in her ears, “Just stay here, please. Don’t leave me.”

He fell to his knees and stroked her hair. Salty tears dropped from his face and mixed in with hers.

The mission had been a colossal failure but not because Russo had gotten away. It had never been about killing the bad guys. He understood that now. 

As he looked down at the shallow breaths Karen was taking he realized that he was losing his family all over again.

“Karen, I’m done, you hear me? I’m done going after these people. I don’t care anymore. Just as long as you stay with me, okay?” 

He kissed her forehead and then her eyelids. “Please,” he whispered. He nuzzled his cheek against hers. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. The color was slowly draining from her face.

He barely heard the wailing of the ambulance that pulled up next to him. He didn’t resist when the paramedics took her from his arms and strapped her to a gurney. Her eyes were still shut. One of the EMTs was starting an intravenous line on her right arm to begin administering fluids.

“Sir, sir!” Someone waved a hand in front of his face.

“Can you tell us what happened to her?” A fresh faced paramedic stood in front of him.

“Dislocated left shoulder that I realigned and she was shot in the right thigh,” Frank said in a monotonous tone. His eyes never left Karen’s face.

The paramedic nodded and ran back to the ambulance. They sped off over the horizon. Frank watched them disappear out of view, Karen’s motionless body imprinted in his mind.

“Frank Castle,” a familiar voice said behind him. 

He turned. It was Dinah Madani and she was holding a pair of handcuffs.


	64. Frank Castle

What happened next was mostly a blur. 

Frank did not resist as Madani cuffed him and read him his rights. His mouth was set in a tight line. He stood with his head held high and stared at Madani as she spoke. His stare was empty. Like he wasn’t really seeing her. The look caught her off guard. He thought he detected a hint of concern in her expression before it faded and she got back down to business. 

He followed a police officer to a squad car and got in without a fuss. They rode to a police station, lights flashing and siren wailing. Frank looked gloomily out the window.

He watched the New Yorkers out on the streets. Drivers getting out of their way and pedestrians craning their necks to see what was going on. It was unbelievable to him that these people were just going about their days like nothing had happened. How could the world continue to turn when Karen was laying on a gurney in an ambulance slowly dying?

At the police station they strip searched him and gave him a jumpsuit to wear. Frank changed his clothes and followed orders robotically. His body was there but his mind was somewhere else. His heart and soul were miles away. In an operating room at the best hospital in the city. 

He was placed in a holding cell for a little while until a guard came to take him for questioning. He was led into a small room with a table and a few chairs and was told to wait. He waited for a long time. 

He knew the drill. They wanted him to crack. They left suspects waiting so long hoping their nerves would get to them. Unfortunately for them, Frank was beyond caring about the process. He knew it was all bullshit. Procedures and protocols they had to follow because it was the law.

He sat on the chair with his back straight and his handcuffed hands in his lap. He stared down at them as he waited. They were covered in dry blood. Karen’s blood.

He looked up when the door opened and Madani and a police officer walked in. Madani whispered something into the officer’s ear and he nodded, leaving Madani and Frank alone in the room. 

Madani sat in the chair across from him and placed a tape recorder on the table. It wasn’t turned on. 

“We are alone, Frank,” she said, her voice sounding loud after the long silent wait, “No one can hear us and no one is listening.”

He didn’t say anything and he didn’t move. What did he care about what she had to say? None of this mattered to him.

Madani cleared her throat and cracked her knuckles.

“Frank, I wanted to talk to you candidly before I begin my official questioning.”

He didn’t respond. Madani sighed and placed her hands on the table.

“I think I know how things went down, Frank. We could have worked together...” She trailed off. The look on his face told her he didn’t want to go there.

“Look, I have a lot riding on the line here. I’m glad you caught Russo. I…” she hesitated.

Frank glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was biting her lip nervously. He was about to finally speak. To ask her what the hell this was all about but before he could the door burst open.

“Frank, don’t say anything.”

It was Matthew Murdock, the lawyer.

Frank turned his head for the first time since entering that room and looked at him. Matt was wearing a suit. His shirt wasn’t tucked the whole way in and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was also a dishevelled mess. It looked like he had rushed to get there. Frank knew he had.

“And who are you?” Madani asked getting up from her seat. 

Matt slammed his briefcase down on the table, “Matthew Murdock, attorney at law. Now if you please, I would like a word with my client before you question him.”

Madani put her hands on her hips, “Wh-”

“It is his right,” Matt interrupted her.

Madani pursed her lips, grabbed her tape recorder, and left the room.

Matt sat down in the chair Madani had vacated. Frank turned in his seat and narrowed his eyes at him. He wondered what kind of circus he had gotten himself into. What possible reason could Murdock have to legally defend him?

Feeling Frank’s eyes on him Matt tightened his tie and cleared his throat.

“Frank, do not say anything when they question you. They will find every reason to throw you in jail for eternity. They have reason to believe that you are involved simply because of who you are. They are going to hold you here but I promise you I’m going to get you out,” Matt said. He let out a shuddering sigh, “I can’t say more than that.”

Frank squinted at him trying to decide if he could trust him. Matt looked exhausted but there was a hard determination in his voice.

Frank sat back and nodded. Matt didn’t even pretend he didn’t detect it.

“Good,” he said.

Madani returned a few minutes later. She had the police officer with her this time. Matt moved to sit beside Frank at the other side of the table and Madani sat across from them. The police officer stood expressionless at the door.

She clicked the tape recorder on.

“My client will not be answering questions at this time,” Matt said before she could even speak. 

She looked at Matt as though he were an annoying mosquito in the room she wanted to swat. Frank almost smiled.

“Then you will be placed in a holding cell until further notice,” she said, looking at Frank. She nodded at the police officer and they escorted him out. 

The next 48 hours were a living hell. He didn’t hear anything about what was going on in the outside world. The only person who came to talk to him was Matt and then it was only about legal proceedings. There was a guard present during all of their conversations and Frank couldn’t ask about Karen.

Frank was kept in a cell by himself away from all the other prisoners. During the day he’d keep his expression hard. He went through the motions of showering and getting dressed, eating the garbage they served in the cafeteria, and then sitting in his cell staring into space.

At night it was much more difficult. The nightmares had returned and were much more vivid than before. He would fall asleep, end up in a nightmare, wake up startled and disoriented only to fall asleep again and resume the nightmare he had woken up from.

Karen was in all of them. She died in his arms again and again.

Everything reminded him of her. The blue of the sky he could see between the bars in his windows made him think of her eyes. The crappy food they served him made him long for the meal he had cooked for her. The yellowing of the plaster on the wall made him think of her sun kissed hair. It pained him to see the dried blood he still had underneath his fingernails. Remembering her blood seeping through his fingers as he held pressure to her gunshot wound.

He was brought in for questioning several more times but he kept his mouth shut. It infuriated the detectives and police officers. They tried everything to break him. Called him names and insulted him. One of them had even stooped so low as to tell him he knew about Karen’s condition and could tell him if he would just cooperate.

Frank had been close to strangling him. It had taken all of his remaining willpower not to.

To his surprise Madani did not come back to question him further. 

On the 48th hour of his detention, a security guard and Matthew Murdock showed up at his cell. Matt looked exhausted but pleased.

“Frank Castle, you are being released due to lack of evidence,” the guard said, “Hold out your hands, please.”

Frank held his hands out through he opening and the guard cuffed him. 

He learned later that all security footage at the warehouse had been erased. All of the weapons used had somehow disappeared before the police had arrived. The only people who were able to place Frank at the scene were the paramedics who had come to pick Karen up and the officers who had arrested him. 

An anonymous caller had called in about a car accident a few blocks away from the warehouse. Inside of the car, unconscious, they had found two men. One of them was Billy Russo. They had both been arrested immediately. They both refused to talk. 

Frank, Matt, and the guard walked down the corridor. Now that he was so close to being released he felt like he was bursting at the seams. He kept his demeanor calm. Soon he would be out. Soon he would know.

He was escorted into an office. Madani was waiting for them in there. She looked thinner than she had even two days ago. Her skin was pale and there were bags under her eyes.

“Well, Frank you’re going home,” she said when they entered. 

Frank looked at her but didn’t say anything.

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a sad smile. 

“I don’t want to see you here again,” she said, her eyebrows knitted together in a stern expression. It was a warning.

Paperwork was signed, hands were shaken and then he, the guard, and Matt were walking towards another room. Once there the guard removed his handcuffs and handed him a bag with the clothes Frank had been wearing when he had been arrested. Matt handed him a stack of clothing.

“For you to wear,” he said.

Frank took off his jumpsuit and changed into the clothes Matt had brought for him. It was a pair of black jeans, a black shirt, and his black leather coat. Matt had even returned his beanie. He pulled it on over his head. He took out his combat boots from the bag of his belongings and put them on. 

The guard walked them out of the prison to a waiting car. Matt and Frank got in and the car pulled away. 

“Karen?” Frank grunted, when the prison fell out of view. He held his breath.

“She is in stable condition at the hospital,” Matt said.

Frank exhaled feeling like he had been holding his breath for the entirety of the past two days. He placed his head in his hands and blinked back tears. _Thank Christ_.

Matt ran a hand through his hair, “She received numerous blood transfusions and had surgery on her right leg. The doctors expect a full recovery. Though it will be a while before she’s back on her feet.”

Frank nodded and sat back in his seat, “When can I see her?”

“She will be allowed visitors in one week,” Matt said.

Frank’s eyes began to water again and he turned his face away from Matt. It was no use. Matt would know he was crying. He rubbed his eyes with his fist.

Matt spoke to fill the silence. 

“You’re Frank Castle now. Your charges before this were absolved. You were pardoned by the governor of the state,” he said, “You have Madani to thank for that.” He took off his sunglasses and ran his hand over his face. 

“They can’t prove you were involved in any of the recent… killings. You don’t have to hide behind the name Pete Castiglione anymore,” he said.

Frank stared at Matt in shock.

_Frank Castle_. Frank let the name sound in his mind. Not the Punisher. Not Pete Castiglione. Just Frank.

The governor of New York had pardoned him and Madani had been behind it. He stared out the window wondering what universe he was living in.

Matt gave him a grim smile and continued, “Your release wasn’t easy, Frank. Madani had to pull strings, going to people who owed her favors. Some people are not happy about you being free so I suggest you try to keep a low profile.”

Frank pursed his lips and nodded slowly, “Will do.” 

He wondered why Matt had even bothered to help him. Matt obviously didn’t agree with his methods and he imagined it greatly disturbed him how many people Frank had killed, and yet he had apparently worked day and night to get Frank out of custody.

He chanced a sidelong glance at him. Matt was leaning his head against the window. He had large circles under his eyes that peeked out from behind his sunglasses. His face was unshaven but his clothes were neat.

He cleared his throat, “Why did Madani get me pardoned?” He asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Matt shrugged, “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

Frank sighed and turned away. It didn't really matter what the reason was. He had been given a second chance. The kind people prayed about. He couldn’t let it go to waste.

The car pulled up in front of Frank’s shitty apartment building an hour later.

“What about Russo?” Frank said, before exiting the vehicle.

“He is in custody. Maximum security. He’s never getting out.”

Frank found he didn’t really care that Russo was still alive anymore. He shook his head and exhaled. “Red… Thanks,” he said.

Matt shrugged, “See you out there, Frank.”

Frank shut the car door behind him and watched the car drive off. He turned to his apartment building. There was graffiti everywhere and everything was always broken. It didn’t matter before that his dishwasher didn’t work or the shower never had hot water because he was hardly ever in there anyway. 

But looking at it now he felt as though this just wouldn’t cut it anymore. 

He walked up the steps to his unit and opened the door which he never even bothered to lock. It was the same as he had left it. His stack of books in the corner and a few clothes in the closet. He stuffed the clothes into a bag and grabbed the books. A corner of a photograph was sticking out of the book “Of Mice and Men”. He took it out.

It was a photograph of his family. Maria, Lisa, and Frank Jr. They were seated on the ferry smiling at the camera. Maria had on sunglasses and she was beaming. Frank remembered that day very well. They had gone on a ferry ride to see the Statue of Liberty. Lisa in particular had loved it. She had been fascinated by that statue. 

“Why is she holding a torch?” She had asked him, tugging at his sleeve.

“Lady Liberty is leading people who arrive here to freedom. That’s why it’s called the Statue of Liberty,” he had said.

Lisa had stared at it in awe. “I want to be like Lady Liberty,” she had said wistfully.

Frank smiled at the memory. He kissed the three faces on the photograph and tucked it back into the book. He packed the books into his bag and lifted it over his shoulder. 

He left the apartment without looking back.


	65. Waking Up

The last thing she could remember was Russo pointing a gun at her, the thunderous crack of the bullet leaving its chamber and its casing rattling to the ground. Frank holding her in his arms and Daredevil running off. 

_Daredevil? Daredevil is dead._

After that it was only snippets.

The roof of an ambulance and a worried young face hovering over her shouting out the words, “You’re going to be okay!”

Bright fluorescent lights that hurt her eyes and men and women in white coats rushing along side her shouting out orders. 

A young nurse administering medication into the catheter in her arm. 

When she woke it felt like waking from a very long dreamless nap. The kind of nap that leaves one feeling more tired than before. 

The lights were dim and a curtain blocked her bed from view from the entrance to her room. She had a catheter in her arm, a catheter just below her collar bone, and, she lifted the sheet, a catheter down there. She grimaced. 

Her left shoulder ached but she did not have a cast. Pillows were propped beneath her right leg and her thigh was wrapped in a tight bandage.

She had a tube going down her nose which was extremely uncomfortable. 

She coughed. There was a movement in the corner of the room. She looked and saw a large armchair with a woman laying in it covered by a white blanket, snoring softly, her blonde hair streaked with gray.

Karen squinted. 

“Mom?” Her voice was barely above a whisper and it hurt her throat to talk as though she had been screaming for hours.

The person in the chair stirred.

“Karen? Oh Karen!”

Her mother rose from the chair and rushed to her side.

“Karen, you’re awake. Oh thank God,” she grabbed Karen’s hand and kissed it. Tears streamed from her pale blue eyes.

Karen began to cry quietly too.

“Oh honey. Have some water,” her mother said, holding out a cup of water with a straw.

Karen sipped. The water was wonderfully cool.

“Thanks,” she said, “Where’s daddy?”

“He went to get us some dinner. He should be coming back soon. We were so worried, Karen,” Penelope said. She stroked Karen’s hair. 

Karen looked around the room. There was a pole next to her bed with fluids hanging off the hooks at the top. One bag had clear fluid and another had blood. The lines passed through a machine and then into her arm. 

Karen looked at the flowers and gifts in the corner.

“Are those for me?” She asked, lifting her hand to point.

“Yes,” Penelope said, “You have so many friends!”

Her mother brought her each bouquet one by one so that she could smell them and read the attached notes.

There was a bouquet of yellow dandelions from Ellison and all her coworkers.

_We wish you a speedy recovery. We can’t wait for you to get back._

“They sent you this as well,” Penelope said. It was a newspaper with the headline “Russo Back Behind Bars” with a picture of a handcuffed Russo being escorted by two police officers into the police station. Karen smiled triumphantly.

Penelope handed her a bundle of white daisies.

_I’m visiting you as soon you wake up. I’m so sorry for everything that has happened. Love, Foggy._

“These came with a gift,” Penelope said. She grabbed a parcel from the daybed behind her and handed it to Karen.

The parcel was large. Karen unfolded the paper delicately. It was a patchwork quilt.

“Oh!” Karen gasped, “It’s so beautiful.”

_My mom made you this. Love, Foggy._

Karen felt her throat catch. She hugged the quilt to her chest.

“Here,” her mother said gently. She took the quilt from Karen and unfolded it on top of her. It was made of different shades of blue and one edge had different shades of white and yellow to look like a shoreline. Karen ran her hand over it. It was soft and clearly made with love.

The next one was a bouquet of pink blossoms.

_I hope you get well soon. - James_

Karen flushed and handed it back to her mother. Penelope smiled and grabbed the stack of cards that had been delivered for Karen.

“Were those all the flowers?” Karen asked trying to sound nonchalant.

Her mother nodded. Karen swallowed back the feeling of disappointment that was threatening to rise.

She read through the cards. There were cards from old clients when she had worked at Nelson and Murdock. There was a card from Marci and Foggy. And an entire stack of cards from people who read her columns. She had never realized so many people actually read her articles and _enjoyed_ them.

_Stay strong, girl! We love you._

_Thank you for doing what you do._

_You are a hero._

Tears sprang to her eyes as she read. There were many words of encouragement and many of gratitude. 

All those times she had felt insecure around Matt and Foggy for not being a lawyer, all those times she wondered what the point was of all the work she did. Those feelings dissolved with each word that she read. All of the danger, all of the doubt, everything, had been worth it.This is why I do what I do, she thought as she read. 

After she read through all the cards Paxton Page, her father, returned with takeout.

“Karen!” He exclaimed. He handed the food to Penelope and rushed to Karen’s side. She hugged him. 

“Thank God you are okay,” he said. 

Karen let her parents fuss over her. Her father eyed the fluids going into her arm and her mother straightened out the sheets on top of her. She even took her pillow and fluffed it for her. It was remarkable how quickly Karen reverted to being their child. 

It had been years since she had seen them and the years were apparent on their faces. New wrinkles etched their skin and her mother somehow looked shorter. Her father had lost more of his previously blond locks and was now nearly completely bald. He was also much thinner than he had been in the days of her childhood. 

When her parents had done all they could do for her they sat around her bed to eat the Chinese takeout.

Karen watched her father serve his mother’s plate just as he had always done throughout Karen’s entire life. It was one of those things she had completely forgotten about until now and she suddenly felt an enormous amount of regret.

She sighed. Her mother looked up and caught her gaze.

“What is it, Karen?” She asked, new lines of worry creasing her forehead. Lines that hadn’t been there the last time Karen had seen her.

“I’m sorry,” she choked and she began to cry again.

“Oh honey,” her mother got up and hugged her to her chest. Karen sobbed in her arms.

Her father handed her a box of kleenex and she blew her nose.

Her face wet and her skin splotchy from crying she took a few heaving breaths.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited,” she said wiping her face with her hands.

Penelope and Paxton glanced at each other and then Paxton took Karen’s hand in his.

“We understand. Let’s just be happy we’re all together now and that you are okay,” he said.

Karen nodded, her chin quivering, and held her arms out. Both her father and mother went in for a hug and Karen laughed with relief. Happy to have them back in her life.

The doctor came in to talk to her while her parents were eating dinner. She had apparently been unconscious for several days. She couldn’t remember anything about it. He told her she had woken up from it the day before but only briefly. When she had arrived to the hospital her dislocated shoulder had already been reset in its socket. X-rays showed that whoever had done it had done an excellent job. The doctor told her she should expect some shoulder pain for a few weeks and cautioned her against raising her arm over her head for a while.

Her leg would take longer to heal. The bullet had gone straight through but thankfully hadn’t hit any major arteries. She would need bandages for at least six weeks and crutches for at least a month. She could start physical therapy in the following week to learn exercises to strengthen her leg. How quickly she progressed would determine when she would be discharged but they expected she’d probably be able to go home next weekend.

“You’ll have to continue changing your bandages at home and keep up with your physical therapy training,” the doctor said sternly, “Make sure you move around to prevent any blood clots in your legs.”

Karen nodded, “Thank you, doctor.”

The doctor also removed the tube from her nose, which she learned was a feeding tube. She would be on a liquid diet for a few days before switching back to solids. 

She would be allowed to receive non-family visitors in one week. Karen groaned inwardly at the news. She wanted to see Foggy and Frank as soon as possible. She wanted to ask Foggy about what she had seen at the warehouse. That flash of red disappearing after Russo’s getaway car.

The next morning Karen ordered her parents to return to their hotel to rest. They had been at her side day and night for the past several days. They agreed reluctantly promising they would be back in the evening. 

She spent the whole day reading the news. Her coworker Miles had taken over covering the Billy Russo story. According to him, Russo and an accomplice, who went by the name Francisco Gutierrez, had been captured and were behind bars awaiting trial.

_Frank Castle, known for the mass murders of members of the Irish mafia as well as prominent leaders of the Operation Cerberus group, was also apprehended but after 48 hours was released due to lack of evidence. He has no involvement in the killings according to Detective Brett Mahoney._

_In a controversial move propagated by agent Dinah Madani of the Department of Homeland Security, Frank Castle has been cleared of all charges against his name and pardoned by the Governor of New York. Hundreds of people took to the streets outside of the courts, police stations, and the Department of Homeland Security to protest on Thursday morning after Castle’s release. Others rejoiced hoping Castle would return to ridding the streets of dangerous criminals._

_“I’m glad he’s back out there,” said Harry Walker, a chef from Hell’s Kitchen, “Maybe now we can go back to resting easy in our homes.”_

_Agent Madani has declined to comment._

_The Governor’s approval rating continues to decline and some are calling for his impeachment..._

Karen stared at the article. Stared at Frank Castle’s name in the fine print. He was free. _Really_ free. She closed the newspaper and folded it in her lap. She looked out the window at the city skyline unsure how to feel. Part of her was elated and another was confused. The Governor’s pardon had all the markings of corruption. There must have been some underlying reason Madani did it but she couldn't imagine why.

Frank was out there somewhere, a free man, she thought as she looked out at all the buildings. She wondered if he would come visit her.

She suddenly felt like the next week couldn’t go by fast enough.


	66. Reunions

The first place Frank went to after leaving his crappy apartment behind was Curtis’s.

“Am I glad to see you,” Curtis said when he opened his front door, stepping aside to let Frank in.

Frank came in carrying only his duffel bag and the resolve to change his life.

“How you holding up?” Curtis asked him, eyeing him up and down. Frank had several visible bruises on his face and neck.

Frank shrugged, “Russo is in prison. Karen survived her gunshot wound-”

“Wait,” Curtis held up his hands, “Karen what now?”

Frank quickly told Curtis about the ambush, the aftermath, being arrested, and then released.

When Frank was done Curtis clicked his tongue and shook his head. They were still standing at the front door.

“You want some coffee, man? I feel like I need some coffee after that story.”

Frank chuckled and nodded.

Curtis limped over to the kitchen and switched on his coffeemaker, “Make yourself at home,” he called out.

Frank wiped his hands on his jeans and took off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack. He wandered over to the living room and sat down on the couch. He glanced around the room at Curtis’s minimalist decor. He had few furniture: a couch, an armchair, a coffee table, and a small bookshelf. Curtis had always said owning too many things weighed you down. If that were the case, Frank was lighter than he had ever been.

He heard a hissing and dripping sound and the smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen. Frank suddenly realized he was starving. 

Curtis joined him a few minutes later with two mugs. He handed one to Frank.

“Thanks,” Frank said. 

Curtis sat down and set his coffee on the table.

“So, what’s your plan?”

“Well, for starters, I need to find a new place to live,” Frank said. He took a sip of coffee. It was really strong and he immediately felt the effects of the caffeine coursing through his veins.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” Curtis said before Frank could continue.

“You sure?”

“Of course, man,” he said, “You’re my brother.”

Curtis said it so casually. He had always been that way. He made friends easily and was loyal to a fault. For Curtis they had been brothers the day they had met. So had Billy Russo.

Frank wondered how Curtis would have reacted if Russo had betrayed him the way he had betrayed Frank. He had a feeling Curtis wouldn’t have gone on a shooting rampage. Sometimes he wished he could have as much faith in humanity as Curtis did.

Frank patted him on the shoulder and grinned, “Thanks.”

Curtis waved his hand impatiently and gulped down some coffee, “What else you got planned?”

Frank set his mug down on the table and placed his hands on his knees, “I want to find a job-”

“I can help you with that,” Curtis interrupted immediately.

Frank laughed.

Curtis shrugged, “What are friends for?”

“It might be a little hard,” Frank said, “I’m not exactly the most popular guy in the city right now.”

Curtis nodded, “Yeah, I can see why you think that.”

Frank looked at him with a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the people who hate you just happen to be really vocal about it. The truth is there are a huge number of people who support you.”

“Why? I’ve done so many horrible things to a lot of people,” Frank said, “Sure, they deserved it, but most people wouldn’t agree with my methods.”

Curtis pursed his lips, “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Curtis got up from the couch and grabbed something off the small bookshelf in the corner. He handed it to Frank.

It was a page out of a newspaper with an article titled “Frank Castle: War Hero and Family Man” and the name underneath: _Karen Page_.

Frank almost choked on his coffee.

“When was this?”

Curtis shrugged, “A couple of months ago. It really changed people’s opinion of you. How did you not know?”

Frank stared at the article in bewilderment. It was dated three and a half months ago. Right in the middle of the events leading up to his first confrontation with Russo. He hadn’t had time to read the paper then. 

He read the article while Curtis drank his coffee quietly next to him. 

Karen described Frank’s war accomplishments and honors, his dedication to his family, and their brutal deaths. She also wrote about the many people he had saved including herself.

He lowered the article and stared at the wall across from him.

“A lot of people are on your side, Frank,” Curtis said softly.

Frank placed his head in his hands. First he had been pardoned by the governor and now he was learning that Karen had changed the public’s perception of him with an article she had written. An article he had somehow missed. 

He was beginning to realize how precious this new opportunity he had been given really was. Not many people got a chance like this. 

Curtis patted Frank on the shoulder. 

“I don’t feel like I deserve this,” Frank said.

“Well, you got it. Whether you like it or not,” Curtis said, “So don’t squander it.”

Frank nodded. Curtis was right.

Frank’s stomach let out an angry growl and Curtis laughed.

“You wanna go get some food, man?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to the diner in the Upper East Side,” Frank said. Getting some food would be a good distraction from the flood of feelings that was waiting to overcome him.

He handed the article back to Curtis. Curtis shook his head, “Keep it.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. He folded it and placed it inside his book, with the photograph of his family.

Then they grabbed their coats and went to get lunch.


	67. A Beginning

The next day Frank took the train to Staten Island. He hadn’t spoken to Micro since the attack on Russo and his men.

He sat in his seat and read the final few chapters of the book “Of Mice and Men.” He was completely absorbed in it wanting to finish before getting to Staten Island. Sarah and the kids were likely home by now and Leo would want to talk to him about it.

He didn’t really notice the other people on the train. There were only a few passengers anyway. It was the middle of a weekday and after rush hour. Most people were at work or school. 

Frank read the final page of the book and closed it. He looked out the window at the buildings flashing by, bringing himself back from the book’s world. 

An hour later the train arrived at the station and screeched to a stop. From there he only had to walk a few blocks to Micro’s house. 

It was a beautiful day. Cold but no longer icy cold. Frank walked with his hands jammed in the pockets of his hoodie. 

He had been growing his hair out again. His face was covered in stubble and underneath his beanie his hair was slowly beginning to grow back. 

He saw Sarah’s red minivan parked in the driveway of the house. The workshop van he and Micro had used was nowhere in sight. He figured it was probably parked inside of the garage.

He skipped up the front steps and rang the doorbell. He heard footsteps thudding down the stairs. The door swung open and revealed Leo.

“Pete!” She practically screamed. She threw her arms around him.

“Hey Leo,” he said laughing.

Zach came bounding down the stairs. Leo let go of Frank. 

Frank held his fist out to Zach for a fist bump. Zach ignored it and hugged him. It was the first time he had ever hugged him and Frank was moved by this gesture of affection. He hugged him back and pounded him on the back with his hands in the way some men do when they hug each other. Zach released him and grinned.

“Frank,” Micro came in from the kitchen. “I mean Pete,” he corrected.

Frank shook his head, “Call me Frank,” he said.

Micro raised his eyebrows. Sarah came down the stairs.

“Frank?” She asked, “What do you mean?”

Frank glanced at Micro.

“All my records have been cleared,” he explained, “I’ve been pardoned. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“No, we’ve been busy,” Micro said, putting his hands on Zach’s shoulders.

“Just being together,” Sarah said. 

Frank looked down at his shoes and shrugged, “Well, you can call me Frank.”

“Frank,” Leo said, “Okay, hi Frank.”

“Hi Frank,” Zach echoed.

Frank smiled.

“It’s good to see you guys together again,” he said.

Micro put his arm around Sarah.

“It’s good to see you too… Frank,” Sarah said. She smiled at him. “Do you want to join us for lunch today? I’m making pot roast.”

“That’d be great,” Frank said, “Thanks.”

Sarah gave him a thumbs up sign and made her way to the kitchen, “Kids, come help me,” she called out behind her.

The kids let out a collective groan and followed behind Sarah dragging their feet. 

“But I want to talk to Pe- Frank!” He heard Leo wail. 

“You can talk to him after lunch,” he heard Sarah say from the kitchen. Frank grinned as he watched them go.

“Frank, come to the garage with me,” Micro said. He disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen and Frank followed. 

They walked through the kitchen where Sarah was cutting up vegetables and the kids were washing dishes, stepping around them. Leo looked excited for a second but then realized they were just going to the garage. 

The van was parked inside. Covered by the blue tarp. Micro pulled the tarp off the van and opened the sliding door. He got in and sat on the couch. He patted the space next to him indicating Frank should sit there.

“What the hell are you doing?” Frank asked incredulously. 

“I want to tell you something,” Micro said matter of factly.

“In here?” Frank gaped at him.

Micro shrugged, “I got kinda used to it. Anyway I don’t want the kids or Sarah to hear.”

Frank placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. He looked at Micro who was looking at him patiently. As if this were a totally normal request to make. 

“Ugh,” Frank muttered as he climbed into the van. He plopped down on the sofa next to Micro. “What is it?”

Micro got up and slid the van door shut. They were in complete darkness. He reached behind him and flipped on the ceiling LED lights. They flickered on. Frank looked around. The van looked much the same as it had a few days ago. The cabinet door was open and he could see that it had been completely emptied.

Micro looked down at his hands and cleared his throat, “It was me who got rid of all of the security footage at the warehouse. I hacked into their mainframe. You killed all of their computers while you were in there but they had a backup generator and it kicked in. I was able to access their security network and get rid of it all.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Frank said feeling that coming into the van to say this wasn’t really warranted.

“I also got rid of all of the weapons,” Micro added.

“Good. Thanks Lieberman,” Frank said. “So, is that it?” He asked clapping his hands together.

Micro shook his head. He reached into one of the cabinet’s drawers and took something out of it, handing it to Frank. It was the bodycam.

“Oh shit, I forgot all about that thing,” Frank said, holding it up to the light. 

“It fell off your vest at some point during the confrontation,” Micro said, “I snatched it up while you were waiting for the ambulance…”

“Damn.”

The implications of the bodycam falling into the wrong hands were terrifying. He would have gone to prison forever.

“I still have the footage,” Micro said.

Frank snapped his head in Micro’s direction.

Micro raised his hands, “I was waiting to see what you wanted to do with it,” he explained quickly. 

“Are you fucking kidding? Destroy that shit!” Frank exploded. He was clenching the bodycam in his fist. There was a crack as the plastic piece that he used to clip it to his vest was crushed between his fingers. He opened his fist and handed it to Micro. “Get rid of it… please,” he said regaining his composure.

Micro nodded, “No problem.” 

He got up and switched on his laptop. He stood hunched over the desk as he typed. After a few taps on the keyboard he looked over at Frank.

“It’s done.”

Frank sighed in relief. He grabbed the bodycam off the desk and placed it on the floor of the van. He crushed it with the heel of his combat boot.

Micro slid the side door open and they hopped out of the van.

“You know, that wasn’t really necessary,” Micro said, pointing at the crushed bodycam, “I erased the footage. There would have been no way of retrieving it from that thing.”

“It’s symbolic. Besides, we don’t need it anymore,” Frank said, “Why’d you think I’d want to keep that shit anyway?” Frank asked as they walked through the garage back to the kitchen.

“I dunno. I thought maybe you’d want to study it. See what went wrong and what you can change for next time…”

Frank stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face Micro.

“There won’t be a next time” he said almost menacingly. 

Micro rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah okay… but just in case.”

“I said those days are behind me,” Frank said, his voice rising.

Micro held up his hands defensively, as he often did when talking to Frank.

“Okay. Those days are behind you. Fine,” he said.

Frank closed his eyes and counted to five. He realized it didn’t matter what he said to Micro. Micro would want to be prepared anyway in case Frank decided those days really weren’t behind him after all and came back to recruit Micro for help again. Well, he can believe what he wants, he thought. All that mattered was what he himself believed and he believed with every fiber of his being that it was really over this time.

They returned to the kitchen and helped Sarah by setting the table. The food was ready a little later and they all sat down to eat. 

Frank asked them about California. The kids grew quiet and pushed their food around their plate. Sarah sighed and answered, “It was fine, really. We had everything we needed… except…” She looked at Micro. Micro grabbed her hand.

Frank nodded understanding. 

“It’s really pretty over there,” Leo said. 

“Yeah, grandma and grandpa have a house a block away from the ocean,” Zach said, he sat up straighter, “I saw a whale through grandpa’s binoculars!”

“That wasn’t a whale,” Leo rolled her eyes.

“It was a whale!” Zach insisted, “You’re just jealous you didn’t see it.”

Frank suppressed his laughter as Leo and Zach bickered over the whale Zach had seen. 

“Anyway, we’re happy to be home,” Sarah said over the din of her children’s arguing. 

“Glad you guys are back,” Frank said, taking a huge bite of pot roast. 

She smiled at him.

Frank talked with Micro and Sarah more about California while the kids finished up their meals. They waited impatiently for the adults to stop talking. They both shouted as soon as there was a lull in the conversation.

“MomcanIshowFranksomething?” Zach blurted out before they started talking again.

“Frank did you read Of Mice and Men?” Leo asked at the same time. She glared at Zach. 

Sarah looked at Frank, “Well, that’s up to Frank. Frank, are you done eating?”

Frank looked down at his empty plate and pressed his lips together, “Hmm…” he said. He looked at Leo’s and Zach’s eager faces and almost couldn’t keep a serious face. He shrugged, “Yeah. I think I’m done.”

Zach and Leo cheered. Zach ran over to him and tugged his shirt, “Me first,” he said.

Leo crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, “Fine,” she muttered.

Frank followed Zach upstairs to his room. It was the same as the last time he had seen it except Zach had pinned more drawings to the wall. They were watercolor paintings of California sunsets. The ocean with surfers wading in the distance, waves breaking onto the shoreline and pink and orange skies. Frank studied them, “Kid, you have talent,” he said.

“Thanks,” Zach said humbly. He held out a thick piece of paper to Frank, “For you,” he said. A blush was creeping up on his face. Frank took it and looked at it.

It was a pencil drawing of Frank. He was standing on a busy street, the other people blurs of pencil markings, rushing past. Frank stood amongst them in more detail, tall buildings loomed behind in the background. He was wearing his long leather coat, billowing behind him like a cape. He looked like a superhero.

The Frank in the drawing was looking just past the viewer. It was uncanny. No matter what angle he looked from, the Frank in the drawing was looking past him, at something behind him.

“Wow,” he whispered as he examined the drawing. This was the first portrait anyone had ever drawn of him and it moved him more than he ever imagined it would.

“This is amazing,” he said. He looked at Zach who was blushing furiously now. “Thank you,” he said. 

Zach smiled and shrugged again, “It was no big deal,” he said.

Frank grinned, put his hand around Zach’s shoulder and squeezed, “It is to me.”

Zach kicked at the ground with his shoe.

“Are you guys done?” Leo whined from the hallway.

Zach glanced at Frank and rolled his eyes. Frank laughed. Leo came in and dragged Frank out of Zach’s room. Frank looked back at Zach and winked. 

Leo took Frank down to the living room where she had her copy of “Of Mice and Men”.

“Did you finish reading it?” She asked eagerly.

Frank nodded and sat down in an armchair. He placed the drawing on the coffee table.

“Yes!” She exclaimed excitedly. 

He took his worn copy out from the back pocket of his jeans and placed it on the table next to the drawing. 

“I cried at the ending,” she said hugging the book to her chest, “Did you cry?”

Frank laughed and shook his head.

“It was so sad though!” She said. She flipped through the pages of the book and stopped on a page she had dogeared.

They discussed the plot of the book and Frank asked her a few questions about the theme before giving his opinion. It was a good book and he liked it. He had read it when he was her age too. 

“What book do you want to read next? You choose this time,” She demanded. 

Frank smiled. Leo was assertive. It reminded him of Karen. He felt a quick flash of fear at the thought of her. He pushed it aside. She was at the hospital and it was going to be okay, he repeated to himself. It was a mantra that kept him going until he could finally go and visit her.

Frank searched his memory for books that had resonated with him. Books that had left an impression on him that he had never forgotten.

“Have you read ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez?” He said finally.

Leo shook her head.

“Let’s read that next.”

Leo smiled broadly and nodded, “I’ll get it at the library tomorrow.”

They sat together in the living room. Leo watched him expectantly as if she were waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t she sighed loudly.

“So… Did you use the thing,” she said.

“What thing?” Frank said knowing full well what she was talking about.

Leo rolled her eyes, “The EMP generator!” She said in a loud whisper.

“Oooh, _that_ thing,” he teased. She crossed her arms at him.

“Yes, I used it,” he admitted.

“So was it.... Useful?” She said picking at a loose thread on a sofa pillow.

“It was.”

She beamed avoiding his eyes.

“Next time you should talk to your dad though before you go making things like that,” he said.

Her smile faltered.

“He won’t be mad,” he added quickly, “I think he’d be happy to help you and maybe teach you a few things.”

Leo looked down at her hands, “Okay,” she said.

“Trust me. He’d love it.”

She looked up at him and smiled, “Okay,” she said more assuredly. 

Frank glanced out the window. The sun was lower in the sky. He glanced at his watch in surprise. Somehow he had spent the entire afternoon at Micro’s. 

“I should be going.”

“Do you have to?” Leo pouted.

Frank got up from the armchair, “I do. But I’ll be back.” He ruffled her hair and she giggled rolling off the couch to get away from his hand.

Micro came in from the foyer.

“Heading out so soon?”

Frank nodded, “Yeah. I’m going to a PTSD meeting tonight.”

“That’s great,” Micro said looking impressed. 

Zach appeared behind Micro, “Don’t forget your drawing!”

Frank grabbed it off the coffee table.

There was a flurry of hugs and goodbyes and Frank reassuring he’d visit again the following weekend.

He walked to the train station. He felt oddly alone after all of that commotion. He blew air out of his mouth. This was just the way his life was. Moments of belonging interspersed with moments of hollow loneliness as opposed to before when he had had a family of his own around him.

He took the train station straight to lower Manhattan where Curtis held his PTSD meetings.

He was surprised at the welcome he received when he walked in. Curtis had hung a banner on the wall with the words, “Welcome Back”. All the guys got up and patted him on the back. Frank actually blushed. He looked at Curtis who was laughing.

Scott had brought his service dog Max with him whose tail wagged so vigorously his whole bottom half moved with it. Frank laughed and got down to pet the dog. 

Frank mostly listened to the others during this first meeting back. A lot of them had made a lot of progress. Scott hadn’t had a single nightmare in weeks and Manuel shared that he hadn’t even flinched when a car backfired in his presence the other day. 

The success stories made him feel hopeful for his own healing.

Frank stayed behind after the meeting had ended to help Curtis clean up.

“I found you a job,” Curtis said as he collected paper cups and threw them into a black garbage bag he was holding.

“Damn. Already?” Frank looked at him incredulously. He picked up a chair and folded it up.

“Yup. How do you feel about going back into construction?”

Frank shrugged, “That’ll do just fine for now.”

Curtis grinned, “Was hoping you’d say that. You start on Monday.”

They finished cleaning up and walked out the door. Curtis locked it behind him. They walked a block towards the nearest subway station.

“You seen the reporter yet?” Curtis asked Frank as they jogged down the stairs to the subway.

Frank shook his head, “Not yet. She’s not allowed visitors until next weekend.” They stood on the platform waiting for the next train to arrive.

Curtis gave him a sly smile, “Bet you can’t wait for that.” 

Frank jabbed him with his elbow and suppressed a grin.

He couldn’t wait. She was all he thought about. All the time. He wondered how she was doing there inside of the hospital. If the nurses were treating her right. If she liked the food they served. He wondered what she was thinking about and if she ever thought about him.

When thoughts of her had first started to invade his mind he had attempted to suppress them. It felt wrong somehow. Like he was breaking his marriage vows. But the thoughts had persisted and they had flooded his mind like water submerging a city after bursting through a dam.

His hand patted his backpack where he had tucked his copy of “Of Mice and Men”, the photograph of his family and Karen’s article folded in between its pages. 

He suddenly knew what he needed to do.

The next day after Curtis had gone to work, Frank made the journey to Queens. He walked the entire four hours it took, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his beanie low over his brow.

When he reached the playground where he used to play with his kids he paused. He listened to the kids there, screaming and laughing while their parents watched from the benches at the edges of the playground.

Then he squared his shoulders and forged on. 

It was only five blocks away. The plot of land where his house used to stand. It took less than ten minutes and he was standing before it. The earth was scorched from the fire he had started that had burned down the house. There were piles of rubble. The only thing that was still standing was his mailbox at the edge of the plot. His last name “Castle” printed on its side.

He stared at what was left of his house for a long time. Feeling a little remorseful for having gotten rid of it in such a permanent way. It had been an attempt to forget everything that had happened. It hadn’t worked obviously.

He walked over to the rubble and kicked at it. A piece of plaster revealed itself, covered in wallpaper depicting cars and airplanes. That had been part of Frank Jr.’s bedroom. Frank felt a stab in his heart. He had forgotten about that wallpaper. 

He exhaled heavily and looked up at the sky. 

“Maria,” he whispered. He fell to his knees. 

“Frankie… Lisa.”

He took the photograph of his family out of the front pocket of his jeans. He kissed it, tears springing to his eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

He dug a hole and placed the photograph inside of it. He stared at it. At his family’s smiling faces. Memorizing it for the last time. Then he covered the hole with dirt and placed the piece of plaster that had been part of Frank Jr.’s bedroom on top of it. 

He got up, brushing the dirt off his jeans and sighed.

He would always love Maria. And the kids. They would always live in a special place inside of his heart and soul. But he was on the verge of starting a new chapter in his life. And for once, he felt ready.


	68. Reunions Part 2

_One week later_

Foggy appeared in her doorway almost the instant the doctor made the order that she was allowed visitors. He came in carrying a huge bouquet of yellow dandelions and a box of her favorite chocolate.

Karen was feeling much better than she had when she had first woken up. They had removed all her catheters except for the one in her arm. The nurses had told her her blood levels were back to normal and she could feel it. The color returned to her cheeks and she was able to shuffle around the room with some crutches, moving from the bed to her arm chair. 

She was also eating again and she relished the fact that her parents were here to bring her home cooked meals that they made in the kitchen of their hotel room.

Her parents had gone out to explore the city they had only seen once in their lives. She had given them a list of sights to see and couldn’t wait to hear what they had to say when they returned in the evening. 

After Foggy placed his gifts on the pile of gifts in the corner he wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Thank God, Karen,” he said. He was already crying.

Karen laughed as she began to cry too.

“How are you doing?” He asked her, taking a seat in the chair next to her bed.

Karen wiped at her eyes and gestured at her body, “As well as I can be, I guess,” she said smiling.

Foggy took her hand and smiled, “I was really worried about you.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand, “Hey, thank your mother for the beautiful quilt.”

Foggy glanced down at the bed. She had been using the quilt ever since she unwrapped it.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. She made me one too, y’know. The other one in the guest room was destroyed…” he trailed off.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, running his hand along the thread on the quilt, “It’s not important.”

“Foggy,” Karen said in a mock stern tone, “Now you have to tell me.”

Foggy looked at her. He puffed up his cheeks and blew air out of his mouth. 

“The other one got blood all over it… because one of Russo’s guys was waiting for you in that room after you left for Vermont… and Frank shot him.”

“Oh,” Karen said. She looked down at the quilt. “I’m sorry that happened,” she said.

“Pff, are you kidding? In no way is anything your fault,” he said, shaking his head at her, “Frank actually cleaned the room up though and he left an apology note,” he added lightly.

“An apology note?”

“Yeah, it said something like ‘Sorry, about the quilt’ in a weirdly nice handwriting,” Foggy said scratching his head.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They laughed a long time. Every time she felt like she was getting a grip on herself Foggy would catch her eye and they’d start laughing all over again.

“Okay, okay. No more,” Karen gasped, her abs were beginning to hurt.

Foggy smiled. They sat together quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

Something had been bothering her ever since she had woken up the week before.

“Foggy,” she said softly. 

“Hmm?”

“After I was shot in the leg… I swear… I swear I saw Matt.” 

Foggy stirred beside her and she looked at him.

He looked away.

“Foggy?”

He rubbed his forehead with his hand.

“So, it’s true,” she said, her voice cracking.

Foggy nodded.

Karen gasped and brought her hands to her face. She covered her eyes as the tears began to flow. Foggy rubbed her shoulder awkwardly. 

“H-how?” She said trying to control her emotions.

Foggy sighed heavily, “I think it’d be better if you heard it from him,” he said.

Karen rubbed at her eyes. She wondered now if she really had seen him in the street that day. 

Foggy grabbed the box of chocolates he had brought with him and opened it. He popped one in his mouth. He held it out to Karen.

“It’ll make you feel better,” he said.

Karen wiped at her face and took one. It tasted like heaven.

“I was shocked too, Karen,” Foggy said between bites, “But I forgave him,” he swallowed. He lowered the box of chocolates to the bed and shrugged, “I don’t know if it’s in my best interest but I couldn’t… I love Matt. He’s my best friend,” he said, his voice wavering, “Besides, I think I’m starting to understand this whole vigilante thing. He helped save _you_ after all. Now all I need to do is stop worrying about him all the time,” he said and sighed. He popped another piece of chocolate in his mouth.

Karen understood. Matt was one of the most complicated men she had ever met. It felt like Matt was always wrestling with some kind of internal battle besides the battles he fought in real life. It was extremely difficult to get close to him. But in those rare moments he had revealed himself completely, well, he had seemed like the greatest person in the whole world.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” she said, taking another chocolate. 

Foggy nodded and chewed thoughtfully.

Matthew Murdock was alive. She had so many questions but at the same time she didn’t want to know. The past several months since his death had been hard on her. After the rubble of the collapsed building had been cleared they hadn’t found any bodies. They hadn’t found Elektra or Matt. 

In the beginning she had clung to that fact fiercely like to a raft in the middle of the ocean during a severe storm. But as the months passed and she didn’t hear anything else about him, not a single inkling of his survival, she slowly began to let go. Letting the storm of mourning swallow her up. 

Matthew Murdock had died and wouldn’t be coming back.

This had been even more difficult to live through. The loneliness had surrounded her like a neverending mist. She had let her job consume her life. 

Frank coming to her for help had been like finally spotting a lighthouse after months of traveling in a rough sea. What they had gone through together the first time around with Russo had helped her forget about Matt. At least for a little while. 

Now Matt was back and she reflected on the past several months of grieving and couldn’t help but feel angry. _Of course_ he hadn’t died. He was a goddamn superhero. All of that grief and pain she had gone through for him, it had all been a waste.

“You okay?” Foggy asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Karen realized that as she had been thinking she had narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists.   
She softened her gaze. 

“Yeah,” she said.

She grabbed another piece of chocolate.

“So… Frank,” Foggy said.

Karen nodded, her eyes wide, “I know.”

“I heard Madani had been pushing for his pardon for weeks now,” Foggy said. 

“Really?” Karen was surprised. She thought back on the time they had met in the hospital courtyard, on the way she had tried to get Karen to convince him to work with her. “I wonder why she didn’t say anything.”

Foggy shrugged, “Probably one of those the fewer people who know the better kind of things.”

They ate the entire box of chocolates before Foggy had to go back to work. He hugged her again as he said goodbye.

“Go easy on Matt, okay?” He said.

She smiled and said she would but inside she wasn’t so sure.

Foggy left the room and Karen laid her head back on the pillow and stared out the window. It was an overcast day. Winter was officially over and pretty soon the temperatures would be going up and flowers would be in bloom. She couldn’t wait.

A light knock stirred her out of her reverie. She turned her head towards the door. It was Matt. 

He was standing in the doorway dressed in a gray suit and black tie. He had his white cane with the red tip in one hand and a bouquet in the other. His hair was combed neatly and he had on his red sunglasses. 

Karen drew a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him alive and in the flesh. He looked like the same old Matt. He was the same old Matt. The one she had fallen in love with so long ago. 

A nurse escorted him inside.

“Thank you so much,” he said to her.

The nurse smiled at him and left the room shutting the door behind her. Karen felt a jab of irritation at seeing the exchange. 

Matt bowed his head.

“You’re alive,” Karen said, her voice cooler than she had intended.

Matt nodded.

Karen looked down at her lap and blinked hard.

“How?” She said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“It’s a long story.” He sounded tired.

Karen decided she wanted to know. She _needed_ to know. She needed to know if all her grieving had been for nothing.

“I have time,” she said, “Sit,” she pointed at the chair next to her bed.

Matt walked over to the chair and sat placing the bouquet of flowers and his cane on his lap. He took a long inhale and began once again to tell his story.


	69. Goodbye

It began to rain as Matt spoke. The raindrops pattered against the window and the clouds darkened the sky and the room. Only a small light near the sink next to Karen’s bed was on. The rest of the room was shrouded in an eerie darkness given the time of day. 

He had been extremely nervous to come here. It felt just like the first time he had to stand in court and address the judge. Except now it was Karen he had to face and not some unknown person he had never met before. Karen, whose opinion he actually cared about.

He had felt knots churning in his stomach all day and hadn’t been able to eat much. All morning he thought about what he would say. He knew that she only wanted to hear the truth and nothing more.

When he had entered her room he had sensed all kinds of emotions radiating off of her. Too many to really pinpoint how she was feeling. It had made him even more nervous.

He could feel Karen’s eyes on him the entire time he spoke. She never interrupted him or made any sound. She just sat up in her bed and listened.

He finished his story and exhaled feeling like a heavy burden had been lifted off his chest. It was silent for a long time. Just as he started to get nervous again she spoke.

“I wish you had come to us sooner,” she said. 

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else he could say.

She shifted in the bed.

“So that day in the street… outside of my work?” She asked him.

Matt bowed his head and nodded.

She covered her face in her hands, “I knew it,” she whispered into them, “I fucking knew it.”

Matt felt a mixture of shame and sorrow flood over him.

“Matt, I can’t just forgive you,” she said, taking her hands away from her face and turning to face him. Her angry glare was laserlike. He could feel the burn of her gaze.

Matt nodded and bit his lip. He tried to blink away the tears but they fell into his lap.

“The last six months were the hardest of my life. I want to forgive you, I do. I wish everything could go back to the way it was before but too much has changed. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore and I don’t want to go through that kind of pain again,” she said. She pulled the quilt up higher around her.

“I understand,” he said.

And he did. He had always struggled with being honest with her and only now was he beginning to realize how wrong he had been. Constantly worrying about her safety, believing he was protecting her, he had pushed her away. If only he had known then that all she had wanted was him but now it was too late. 

Frank had come into Karen’s life and had basically done the complete opposite of Matt. Frank had always been open about who he was and what he did and had never apologized for it. And it was this honesty that had captured her heart.

He nodded and removed his sunglasses to wipe away the tears.

“I need time,” she said. 

Karen’s heartbeat began to speed up and he heard her open and close her mouth as though she wanted to say something more but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She sighed the faintest of sighs, her breath reaching all the way to his skin. He shivered.

“You were Frank’s lawyer,” she said finally,” I read it in the paper.”

Matt nodded.

“Why?”

Matt exhaled. It was a question he struggled with himself sometimes. He felt indebted to Frank for keeping everyone safe in his absence. For treating Karen with the respect that she deserved. And he knew it would have killed her to see Frank behind bars again. When all he had been trying to do was save her life. 

“There was no evidence pointing to Frank being the culprit. None. I was just doing my legal duty,” he paused, "And Frank helped me once. I was returning the favor."

It wasn’t a lie. He had just omitted bits of the truth. He couldn’t tell her that part of the reason he did it was because he knew she loved Frank and Frank loved her in return. What good would that do? It would just complicate things, he rationalized with himself.

All he had ever wanted was for her to be happy. 

They were quiet. Matt bit the inside of his cheek. He raised his head and turned toward her.

“I know nothing I say can change your mind but I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you,” he said. He gripped his white cane in his lap. 

Karen sniffed and wiped at her eyes. 

Matt put his sunglasses back on and stood up. 

“I hope-” he felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard. “I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

He placed the bouquet of flowers onto the bed and walked towards the door.

“Goodbye Matt,” Karen said almost inaudibly. He felt a stab at his heart at the sound of those words.

He paused at the door.

“Goodbye Karen,” he whispered.

He left her room and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it feeling as though his chest was being crushed. From inside the room he could hear Karen crying.

“Sir, are you alright?”

A nurse stopped next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you. I’m just leaving.”

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back and made his way to the elevators.

\----------------

Karen cried into her quilt for a long time after Matt had left. She knew in her heart she had done the right thing for herself. She wasn’t ready to take him back into her life completely. She didn’t trust he wouldn’t hurt her again. Knowing this didn’t lessen the pain. 

She wiped her eyes with the edge of the quilt. The bouquet Matt had left rolled to the edge of the bed. She grabbed it before it fell. 

It was a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots with lavender interspersed between. She held it up to her face, closed her eyes, and sniffed. The scent made her think of meadows in Vermont. Of running through the fields on summer days. 

She unfolded the note.

_This scent has always reminded me of you._

_Love,  
Matt_

She buried her face into her hands and sobbed.


	70. Reunions Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise! I did a ton of writing yesterday and ended up finishing the story. So, here are the final chapters. Enjoy!

Frank stood cramped inside of the subway car with his feet planted, trying not to sway into the people squeezed next to him. It was evening and all over New York City people were scrambling to get home. He had gotten off work himself not too long ago and had rushed home to Curtis’s to change. 

He clutched the bouquet of white roses to his chest, his fingers gripping the plastic paper that held the stems together. He hoped Karen would like them. 

The job Curtis had found for him was a construction job at an old brownstone in Brooklyn. The owners wanted to tear it down and rebuild from the ground up. They had started the demolition this week. 

The pay was alright but definitely not enough to afford a place in Manhattan. Especially now that he had burned through most of the money he had gotten from Madani when they had given him the Castiglione identity. He was looking around for a place in Brooklyn. Maybe one with roommates. Curtis had told him he could stay as long as he needed. Frank was considering asking him if he could move in with him. 

Unlike his last construction job, he actually talked to the other guys he worked with. He sat with them at lunch time and joked around with them while they worked. He introduced himself as “Frank”. He wasn’t sure how they would react if they knew he was The Frank. The Frank Castle that is. The nice thing about jobs like this one was that nobody asked any questions. And he didn’t offer any extra information either.

So far no one outside of the PTSD group had recognized him as Frank Castle. He had grown his hair out again and was sporting a beard. Now that he was living in Brooklyn with Curtis he felt like he was really fulfilling the hipster dream. 

He kept up with the news. The protests against his release had mostly died out after several former marines had come out to talk about how Frank Castle had saved their lives in the warzone. Now people were focusing all their anger on the governor instead.

He was still going to the PTSD meetings. He was even helping Curtis lead them sometimes. The guys there didn’t care he was Frank Castle. They respected his privacy. There was a kind of unspoken rule at group. They all felt like they were part of a brotherhood, and brothers didn’t betray each other. 

He hadn’t told Karen he was coming. He wanted it to be a surprise. He only hoped she didn’t have other visitors when he arrived. 

It was the first day she was allowed to receive visitors. He had wanted to come earlier, he would have if his job weren’t all the way in Brooklyn. He also hadn’t wanted to make a bad impression at work. But he was off for the weekend and he was planning on spending as much time with her as possible.That is if she wanted to spend time with him too.

The subway came to a halt. The doors slid open and the crowd poured out of the subway car pushing Frank along like the current of a river.

He was carried along all the way up the steps to the surface. The stop was right in front of University Medical Center in the Upper East Side. The same hospital Russo had been in just a little over a month ago.

It had rained all afternoon and the streets were still wet. Frank walked gingerly around puddles of water towards the main entrance of the hospital.

At the front desk he asked where he could find Miss Karen Page. They directed him to the elevators and told him she was on the fourth floor in room 402.

The fourth floor was like a maze. He walked around in circles for several minutes until finally finding room 402 in what felt to him like a hidden hallway. The door to her room was shut. He held his breath trying to decide if he should knock or just let himself in. 

He knocked lightly. He didn’t hear anything. 

He pushed the door handle down and opened the door slowly peeking his head around the corner.

Karen was sitting in bed, her eyes closed, breathing softly. He watched her for a minute, relieved that she looked relatively healthy. He entered the room and closed the door behind him with a click. 

Karen moved in the bed, her eyes fluttering open. She turned to the door.

“Frank?” She whispered, squinting at him.

Frank stood by the doorway, the bouquet of flowers in his hands, feeling bad he had woken her up. 

“Hey Karen.”

She opened her eyes fully and her face broke into a smile.

“Well, are you going to come over here or what?” She said, laughter in her eyes.

He smiled and approached her bed seeing for the first time that her room was full of flowers and gifts. 

“Are those for me?” She said, eyeing the bouquet in his hands.

He nodded and handed them to her.

She took them in her arms and smelled them, “I love them. Thank you,” she said.

He felt a blush beginning to creep up his neck. He turned towards the other flowers in the room, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“You’ve had a lot of visitors,” he said.

“Most of those were sent before I could receive visitors,” she said, placing the roses next to her in the bed, “I’ve had a few people come by today though.”

Her voice sounded somber at that and he turned back to look at her. She was staring at the flowers with a sad look on her face. He noticed now that her eyes were a little red. As if maybe she had been crying. Or she was just very tired. He hoped it was the latter.

She looked at him and the sadness on her face disappeared. 

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come,” she said.

He sat down in the chair beside her bed and took her hand.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I got a job,” he said.

Karen’s eyes widened in surprise, “A job?”

Frank nodded, “Yeah, I’m doing construction in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve been staying there with a friend too. Can’t really afford Manhattan anymore.”

Karen nodded. She took her hand out of his and reached for his beard. She ran her fingers along it as if to confirm that it was really there, before dropping her hand back into his. Her touch sent a shiver down his back and he unconsciously squeezed her hand.

“So… are you thinking of getting the man bun now?” She said, breaking the tension that had been in the air just a moment ago.

He laughed.

“I don’t know. Might as well, huh?”

“I think it would suit you,” she said softly looking at his hair. 

This time Frank did blush. 

He cleared his throat, “So uh… how have you been doing?”

Karen looked away and sighed. She took her hand out of his and propped herself up higher in the bed. 

“Not too bad considering I was shot,” she said.

Frank glanced down at her leg guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” he began.

She held up her hand to stop him.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It is. You wouldn’t have gotten shot if you… if we…,” he paused, struggling to find the right words.

“If I wasn’t your friend?” She prompted.

Frank nodded, “If you had just stayed away-”

“Stop.”

Her voice was commanding and he stopped talking immediately. She looked at him. Her eyes had darkened. It was a look he had seen in her eyes only a few times before. 

“You can’t stop me from being in your life. I know the risks. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need any protection.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared ahead of her, a storm brewing inside of her irises.  
“You can’t prevent me from seeing you,” she said, “I don’t want to live a life where I can’t see you,” her voice was breaking. “I need you in my life, okay? So, don’t talk to me about it being dangerous. I know it is. And I don’t care.”

The darkness in her eyes had faded and she was looking down at her lap now, her long eyelashes feathering her cheeks as she rapidly blinked back tears. 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had _needed_ him.

“Karen,” he said softly, “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

She turned to him gratefully, dropping her arms into her lap.

“The truth is,” he said, running his hand through his hair, “I need you in my life too.”

She smiled at him and her cheeks turned pink. 

He grabbed her hand and began tracing shapes into her palm as a way to distract himself from her gaze. He hadn’t been this touchy-feely with her before but since her brush with death things felt a little more urgent to him now. He felt like he needed to touch her, to remind himself that she was really here. 

“So, when do you get out?” He said, changing the subject.

“Next weekend. I’ve started physical therapy. I have sessions every day and I’m learning to walk with crutches,” she nodded towards the corner of the room where a pair of crutches were leaning against an armchair.

“Physical therapy huh?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, “I can’t wait to go home though.”

“I’m happy you’re okay,” he said, running his thumb over her fingers.

She squeezed his hand, “Me too.”

“They treating you alright in here?” Frank asked, glancing at the machine that was pumping fluids into her arm. 

Karen smiled, “Yes, everyone has been great,” she paused, “What about you? You’re back to being Frank Castle now.”

He let go of her hand and sat back in his chair. 

“Yeah. I am, “ he scratched his at his beard, “It’s strange but… I feel like a new person. Like a new Frank Castle, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.”

She looked at him, her eyes full of hope. 

They continued to talk. Frank told her about Micro’s family and life with Curtis as a roommate. She told him about her hospital stay and her parents and how much they had been fussing over her. 

It seemed like he had been there only a few minutes, but really hours had gone by with them in deep conversation. 

They were leaning into each other, as if attracted by some kind of magnet. Frank could feel the force of it in the air. He felt like he could be by her side forever if she let him.

The door swinging open brought them crashing back down to reality. They sprang apart, as if they had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing and turned to look at the doorway.

“Karen! We-” an older woman had burst in, carrying shopping bags. She paused looking from Karen to Frank and back to Karen. 

The woman was short and had blonde hair with streaks of silver which she had up in a bun. Her pale blue eyes were piercing, her mouth open in the shape of an O.

Behind her stood a tall man. He appeared to be in his 60s, nearly bald, and quite thin. The hair he had left on his head was also blond.

“Mom, Daddy,” Karen said, “This is Frank. Frank these are my parents, Paxton and Penelope Page.”

Frank stood up and walked over to them extending his hand, “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Penelope shook his hand slowly and stared at him with wide eyes.

Paxton touched his wife lightly on the shoulder and she let go of Frank’s hand. Paxton took Frank’s hand in a firm handshake.

“Frank. We’ve heard a lot about you,” he said gruffly.

Frank swallowed hard wondering what exactly Karen had said to them. 

“All good things I hope?” He said. He could feel Karen’s laughing eyes on him.

Paxton let go of his hand and gave him a friendly smile, “We know who you are, Frank. Thank you for protecting our daughter.”

Penelope nodded her head vigorously, “Yes, thank you so much, Frank. We don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

Frank placed his hands in his pockets and shook his head, “No need. Really.” 

They stood around in silence. It was only for a moment, but Frank felt the moment stretch until it felt like an eternity. 

“Well, I should be going,” he said finally.

Karen looked at him with a disappointed expression on her face.

He turned to look at her, “See you tomorrow?” He said hopefully.

She grinned and nodded. 

He said goodbye to Paxton and Penelope and headed over towards the door. As he was exiting he heard Penelope say in a loud whisper to Karen, “He’s handsome!”

And Karen shushing her.

He laughed as the door closed behind him.


	71. Something New

He spent the entirety of the next day at Karen’s side. He brought her breakfast from the diner for her and her family and they ate together before her parents left to do more sightseeing. It felt like he had known them all his life and he was welcomed with open arms. 

He suspected her parents spent most of the rest of the day away on Karen’s insistence. He stayed with her in her room and they watched the news on the TV, discussed what was going on around the city, played cards, and sometimes just sat together enjoying the comfortable silence.

In the afternoon she had her physical therapy sessions and the nurse invited him to come along to help. He went with them to a special room where they kept equipment for different exercises.

Inside of the room they had two beams that Karen could walk in between while holding onto them for balance. He watched her struggle to walk a few feet. Her face screwed up in hard determination and sweat pouring down her forehead.

The sight made him sad and angry all at once. Russo had done this to her. These moments tested his resolve to stop killing the people who hurt those who were close to him.

But the triumphant expression on her face when she reached the end of the exercise dissolved all of his anger immediately. 

“Do you want to learn how to help her walk around the room?” The physical therapist asked Frank.

“Yes, please, let’s do that!” Karen said before he could answer. Her eyes were shining.

The physical therapist instructed him how to help Karen get up from a seated position to walk. She had Karen sit at the edge of a bench and Frank sit next to her. Karen’s hand closest to him was to be placed on his fist for balance, the physical therapist explained, and his other arm was to go around her waist. She instructed Karen to place her left foot slightly in front of her, and Frank to do the same with his dominant leg. Then it was very important that Frank utter the words, “Ready, steady, stand,” before they actually got up, Karen pushing herself up off the bench with her other hand. After that Frank could slowly shuffle around the room with her before returning to the bench.

“Okay, now try it,” the physical therapist said.

Karen looked at Frank through her eyelashes, her hair falling in a curtain over one of her eyes. He held out his fist to her and she gently placed her hand on it. Her hand was soft and warm and her touch made him a little dizzy. He placed his other arm around her small waist, his fingers feeling electric. 

They placed their feet into position and Frank looked at her with a small smile on his face.

“Ready,” he said. Her eyes met his and she looked at him in a way she never had before.It felt like the rest of the room had fallen away and the only thing that existed was the two of them together on this bench. 

“Steady,” he almost whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

The physical therapist was staring at them, realizing that something intimate was happening here and feeling like an intruder. Frank and Karen had forgotten she was even in there.

“Stand.”

They rocked to a standing position and Karen leaned into him momentarily, steadying herself. He felt the warmth of her body pressed into his, the scent of whatever conditioner she used filling his nostrils.

She regained her balance and they stood a moment, her hand gripping his fist. Then he began to shuffle slowly across the room and she followed beside him.

It was like a dance. He was leading her through the steps, across a dance floor that only existed for the two of them. She matched his movements in perfect harmony as if they had done this before. As if they were meant to do it again. 

It was in this moment, as they shuffled around the physical therapy room at the hospital, Karen holding on to him and trusting him to hold her up, that he realized he was in love with her. 

It had been quiet the entire time they walked slowly around the room.Time seemed to have come to a standstill. Everything that had come before, all of the anger, all of the sadness seemed to him to be but a distant memory. All that mattered was this moment. And the fact that she was here with him and in his arms.

Frank led her back to the bench reluctantly, not wanting to break away, wanting to keep her by his side for as long as possible. He helped her gently back down to the bench and sat down next to her.

They looked at each other. Something had passed between them. Karen’s face was flushed and there was a question in her eyes. 

The sound of the physical therapist clearing her throat pulled them out of their trance.

“That was… that was very good,” she said, “You’re a natural, Frank.”

He realized he still had his arm around Karen’s waist and he let go of her. 

“Thank you ma’am,” he said to the therapist.

The rest of the session they spent learning individual exercises that Karen could do to strengthen her leg. After that Karen got into a wheelchair and the physical therapist wheeled her back to her room on the fourth floor, Frank walking by their side.

When the physical therapist left them they were quiet. Something had changed between them and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. 

It was broken by the arrival of her parents a few minutes later. They had brought dinner with them and asked Frank to stay. He did and they ate together. Every now and then he caught Karen’s eyes and let his gaze linger.

After dinner he got up, “I should be going,” he said.

Karen looked at him as if she wanted to say “don’t go” but instead she said, “Will you come back tomorrow?”

Frank smiled, “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised.

And he left. 

The whole way home he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The warmth of her touch, the floral scent of her hair, the way she looked at him.

He felt like he was in a daze as he travelled back to Brooklyn.

Curtis was awake reading a book on the couch when he returned.

“There he is,” he said, looking up from his book when Frank walked in.

Frank nodded at him.

“You okay, man?” Curtis said, a look of concern crossing over his face.

“Huh.. yeah, yeah,” Frank said, “See ya tomorrow.” He shut the door of the guest bedroom, which was his bedroom temporarily, and flopped onto the bed.

Curtis shook his head after him and turned back to his book. A knowing smile spread across his face.

Frank laid awake for a long time. Images of Karen danced across his closed eyelids. Eventually he drifted into a dreamless sleep. The first one in many many years.


	72. Going Home

Frank spent the following day with her again. And then every evening after he got off work in the next week. They talked a lot. It seemed like they never ran out of things to say. Karen hadn’t experienced that kind of connection with someone in a long time. 

Her favorite moments were when Frank helped her with her physical therapy. He helped her with a gentleness she had never seen from him before. Treating her with absolute care. She looked forward to do those sessions. To the times when she’d be holding on to his hand, feeling steadier on her feet as the days went by with him beside her.

He had started to bring her her favorite foods from around the city during that week in the hospital. She thought it was a joke at first.

“What’s your favorite place to eat?” He had asked.

And she had named a hole in the wall Indian restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen. The next evening he had brought dinner for her from that place much to her delight.

“Okay, what’s your favorite place to get dessert?” 

And the following day he had a box of chocolate vanilla cupcakes with him. This went on for the rest of the week until the last day. He had saved the best for last.

When he wasn’t there she ached for his presence. He now occupied a permanent space in her mind. She finally admitted to herself that she was in love with him. That she had been for a long time. Almost since she had first met him. When she had looked into his background and found a man who was nothing like the man The Punisher was portrayed to be.

At first it had scared her. Was it possible to love The Punisher?

Except he wasn’t The Punisher anymore. Even the media had stopped using the nickname. 

He was a much more relaxed person. Much more at peace. 

He was simply Frank Castle now. 

And so she had surrendered to her feelings with the fervor of a first love. Thinking about him when he wasn’t around and counting down the hours to his next visit.

She was to be discharged on Friday evening. On that day Frank called her and told her he would pick her up outside of the hospital. 

Her parents were flying back home to Vermont that afternoon, confident that Karen was alright and capable of taking care of herself. 

After a tearful goodbye and Karen promising them she’d visit for all the major holidays, they left. And she was alone in her room again.

Most of the flowers she had received had already wilted and she had gotten rid of them. Except for a single blue forget-me-not and the white roses which Frank kept replenishing. 

When the time came, Frank appeared in her doorway just as the nurse was signing off her discharge papers. He had on jeans, a black long sleeved shirt and a black coat as well as his combat boots. His hair was wild and unruly and a few strands fell into his eyes. The sight of it sent butterflies fluttering throughout her insides. She wanted to run her fingers through it. 

Karen had changed into a pink floral strapless dress to celebrate the start of spring and a black leather jacket her mother had bought her. She wore flats so that it would be easier to stand on her legs. 

She had a small bag stuffed with all the cards she had gotten, the quilt, and a few clothes that her mother had bought her while she had been out and about in the city. She was sitting in a wheelchair, the bag in her lap and the bouquet of white roses on top of it.

He wheeled her down to the main lobby where they waited for a few minutes for the valet to bring around the car Frank had borrowed from Curtis. Karen in her wheelchair and Frank standing behind her. They looked like two people going out on a date. 

When the car arrived, he helped her up from the wheelchair and into the passenger’s seat. She held on to the white roses as she stumbled into the car. Frank placed her bag and crutches in the backseat and they were off. 

It was an uncharacteristically humid night for that time of the year. Winter had just ended and already flowers everywhere were in bloom. Karen stared at them all as they drove down from the Upper East Side towards Hell’s Kitchen. 

It had rained again and the streets were still wet but the city was alive with the excitement of a Friday night. String lights hung from trees full of flowers and leaves. It was dark but there was light everywhere. Emanating from storefronts and restaurants. Young people walking in groups heading out for the night. The moon was high in the sky illuminating the city in a soft glow.

They circled around her block a couple of times before finding a parking spot. Frank helped her get out of the car and gave her her crutches. Their actions carried out with the swiftness of experience. As if they had unknowingly been practicing for this. 

They took the elevator up. Karen hadn’t realized it but they had been quiet since leaving the hospital. It was a comfortable silence. One she didn’t feel she needed to fill with words. She leaned on one of her crutches and glanced over at him. He looked at her and she smiled.

Last time they had been in an elevator together had been under very different circumstances. She wondered if he was thinking about that now. 

The elevator doors slid open and Frank held them open while Karen walked out with her crutches. They walked side by side to her apartment door where Frank took out the spare key she had given him a long time ago and unlocked it. 

It had been a few weeks since she had seen her apartment. It looked cleaner and neater than she remembered. She looked around. There were no clothes hanging off the sofa and the papers on her desk were neatly stacked. There were no dishes in the sink, and the table was set. A vase of red roses in the middle of it. 

Karen turned to Frank in surprise. He was smiling at her. And he looked a little shy.

“Did you…?”

He nodded. 

“You cleaned my place?” She asked in disbelief.

“Yeah… I kind of tore it apart when I was looking for bugs. I did find one. Anyway, I cleaned it up in that week you weren’t allowed visitors yet,” he said.

She looked around again and smiled broadly. 

“Thank you,” she said.

He shrugged. 

She made her way over to the dining table and grabbed one of the red roses. She held it up to her nose and closed her eyes.

_Red. The color of love and desire._

Goosebumps erupted all over her arms.

She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. He was still standing near the front door, watching her, a look of longing in his eyes.

“I uh… I cooked,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away.

He walked over to the kitchen and took out some food from the oven. 

“It’s still warm.”

She smiled. Her stomach was growling. 

“Let’s eat,” she said. 

She leaned her crutches against the table, pulled out a chair, and plopped onto it.

“Phew. That was a lot of work,” she laughed.

Frank came in from the kitchen carrying two serving dishes. He set them on the table.

“What did you make?”

“Spaghetti Bolognese and meatballs and garlic bread.”

“Mmmm.” Her stomach growled again.

He brought over a wine bottle and poured her and himself a glass. 

He sat down and held it up.

“To your recovery.”

She clinked her glass with his.

“Cheers.”


	73. By Your Side

It was hard not to stare at her while they ate. She had removed her jacket and hung it over the empty chair next to her. The dress she was wearing was strapless and her hair tumbled down over her bare shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled as she spoke. 

He didn’t think he had seen so much of her skin before. It looked soft and he wanted to run his hands over it. Feel the small hairs against his fingertips.

He poured himself another glass of wine and topped hers off. 

She smiled and grabbed it, “I’ve already had two.”

She was giddy. He was beginning to feel the effects of the wine too.

They talked while they ate. Much like the first time he had cooked for her a few weeks ago. Again they ate everything and again they finished all the wine.

He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

She put down her fork, “That was really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Karen,” he said. 

She flipped her hair behind her, exposing her bare shoulders and the dip of her collar bone. He swallowed hard and looked up at her face. 

She was leaning forward on the table, her eyes on him. When he caught her eye she bit her lower lip.

He felt a tug of desire pulling at him.

“I’ll uh.. Clear the table,” he said hoarsely.

He got up and hastily grabbed some dishes and took them to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and began to wash them trying to stop thinking about her shoulders. And her lips.

He felt a soft tap on his back and she was standing behind him.

“How did you…I didn’t even hear you,” he said, switching the water off and drying his hands on a hand towel.

Her crutches were leaning on the wall behind her.

She didn’t answer. She just looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, her lips slightly parted. He met her gaze and forgot why he was even in the kitchen.

She cupped his face with her hand and he leaned against it closing his eyes. Wanting more. Wanting her. 

She reached out with her other hand and ran her fingers through his hair and then along his cheekbone and jawline down to his chin. She traced his lips with her fingers. Her touch sending tiny jolts of electricity throughout his body. He shuddered against her hand, his breath coming out ragged. 

“Karen,” he whispered.

She leaned in and brought her forehead against his. Her lips were so close to his that they were just barely touching. He could feel the tips of her eyelashes brushing his cheek as she closed her eyes. The warmth of her breath on his skin.

It was too much for him and he felt himself losing his will and surrendering. He let the burning desire he was feeling consume him.

He pressed his lips against hers and ran his hands along her bare shoulders. Feeling the softness of her skin and the dip of her collar bone that he had been admiring before. She melted into him, moaning softly.

She placed her hands around his neck and kissed him back with an intensity that surprised him.

They kissed fervently. Her tongue finding his and his meeting it hungrily. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled slightly, the pain sending a wave of pleasure through him. 

She grabbed his hands and moved them down her body, past the curve of her breasts down to her hips. He grabbed on to them like they were a pair of handles and pulled her into him. 

The contact made her gasp. He took that opportunity to gently bite her lower lip. She trembled against him.

He pushed her onto the counter but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“The bedroom,” she whispered.

He picked her up in his arms, and just like the last time carried her into her bedroom.

She giggled.

“What?” He asked, placing her on the bed.

“The look on your face,” she said, before pulling him down on top of her. 

\-------------------

_Later that night_

Karen was breathing softly against his chest. She was facing him and he had her arms around her. Her hand was resting gently on his hip. 

He stroked her hair absentmindedly, savoring their closeness. Feeling like he could lay here like this with her forever. 

It had been a long time since he had slept with anyone. He hadn’t since Maria.

When he lost Maria he didn’t think he’d ever feel anything for anyone again. He didn’t think he’d want to. He had been an empty shell of a person for the longest time. 

And now here he was. In the arms of a woman he never believed he would find. A woman he loved with a ferocity he didn’t know he even possessed. Feeling a kind of love he thought he was incapable of feeling ever again.

He looked down at Karen and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She stirred and mumbled something.

He smiled and pulled her closer to him.

“Frank,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You can keep the spare key,” she murmured, before drifting off to sleep again. 

He took her hand in his, interlacing his fingers with hers, and held it against his heart, feeling that there was no other place in the world that he would rather be.


	74. Epilogue

In a desolate cell deep in New York’s penitentiary a man with a ruined face was doing push ups next to his cot.

“58...59….” He counted in between his breaths. 

The cell was bare save for the cot and a toilet and sink in the corner. On the wall the man had used a small pebble to mark the number of days of his imprisonment. 

The day of his arrest and everything that came after had been humiliating. 

Up until then the only people who had seen his face were hospital staff, his ANVIL boys, and Karen page and Frank Castle. And another, whom he had barely seen. Dressed in a skintight red suit.

Since then the media had plastered his face all over the newspapers and the reaction had been cruel. The guards made fun of him every time they came to his cell to escort him to questioning or to the showers or to whatever shitty thing he had to do. 

“They’re calling you Jigsaw,” one of them had said to him, “You know? Like a jigsaw puzzle?”

The other guard had laughed so hard as if it had been the funniest joke he had ever heard. It had taken all of the willpower Billy could muster not to hit him. 

“77...78...”

His arms ached but he persevered.

He had heard from another guard that Jeremy had died on the scene. His most loyal assistant, the most useful out of all of his ANVIL employees, had taken a bullet for him. 

“80...81...”

Soon court proceedings would begin. Soon he would be found guilty and thrown into the prison’s general population.

There he could find Gutierrez. There he could gather a group around him. There he could begin again.

“98...99…”

But for now he did pushups.

And bided his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who made it all the way to the end: Thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Going to take a short break from writing to read other fics, and books, and probably binge watch Jessica Jones now that Season 2 is out. Then I'll be back with a few shorter AU stories featuring my favs: Frank Castle and Karen Page among others. 
> 
> See you in the next fic.


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